Uncle Bob sat alone in his office, thinking over the events of the preceding night, when, all of a sudden, he was aroused from his reverie by the sound of a horse’s hoofs, and looked out at the window to see Mr. Evans coming toward the ranch at a furious gallop.

He rode up to the porch, turned his horse over to Ike, who was there to receive him, and, after saying a few earnest words to the man, and shaking his finger at him warningly, he came into the hall, and entered the office without ceremony.

Uncle Bob was astonished, and not a little alarmed as well. There was an expression on his visitor’s face that he did not like to see there.

“Mr. Howard,” said the newcomer, depositing his hat on the table, and helping himself to a chair, “the whole thing is out on you, and you want to make your stay in this country as short as you possibly can.”

“Bless my soul!” cried Uncle Bob. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Evans looked sharply into the man’s face before he made any reply. He must have been satisfied with what he saw there, for he said to himself:

“This man is in no way mixed up in this dreadful affair. Arthur and Sam are at the bottom of it, but he will have to go, all the same, for the boys never can be made to believe that he is innocent.” Then, aloud, he continued, “It is my unpleasant duty to inform you that Arthur has got himself into serious trouble, and that he is as good as lynched already.”

Uncle Bob’s face grew as pale as death. He sank helplessly back in his chair, and his hands fell by his side.

“Not—not my Arthur?” he gasped.

“Yes, your son Arthur, the very boy who tried to rob that safe last night.”

“It’s false!” cried Uncle Bob, with a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to look indignant. “My son never tried to rob my safe.”

Mr. Evans smiled incredulously.

He had had his doubts on that point, but he had none now. Uncle Bob’s face told him that Ike’s story was all true.

“He has confessed in the hearing of one of your men that he tried to steal five thousand dollars to shut up Sam’s mouth,” said the visitor.

“Who is Sam?” Uncle Bob managed to ask. “Now, Mr. Evans, I don’t understand you at all, and I wish you would be more explicit. You surely do not mean to hint that Arthur had anything to do with the accident that befell his cousin?”

“It was no accident, Mr. Howard,” said the visitor, bluntly. “It was a put-up job, and I mean to say, in just so many words, that Arthur knew it was going to happen before it did happen. Sam—I don’t think there is any one on the ranch who knows what his other name is—used to be one of your brother’s herdsmen. He was discharged for cause, and ordered never to show himself in the valley again; but on the day you arrived, he came back, and sought employment. Managing in some way to scrape an acquaintance with Arthur, he proposed a plan to get rid of Bob, and your son consented to it. Sam carried out that plan by sawing the oars that belonged to the skiff, so that they would break when the boys tried to pull up out of the current.”

“I don’t believe a word of it,” declared Uncle Bob, who, during this long explanation, had managed to collect a few of his scattered wits. Then, seeing that his visitor’s eye began to sparkle threateningly, he hastened to add, “I beg your pardon, Mr. Evans, but somebody has been imposing upon you with a story that cannot have the least foundation in fact. According to your own statement, Arthur took no active part in this thing, and neither did he have any hand in sawing the oars—if, indeed, they were sawed at all.”

“But he was an accessory,” said Mr. Evans, earnestly, “and he is a doomed boy, unless you take immediate steps to protect him. My advice to you would be to see him without the loss of a moment. You will probably find him in the grove—at any rate, that was the place where he held his interview with Sam this morning.”

Uncle Bob thought this a suggestion that was worth acting upon. He put on his hat and left the office, while Mr. Evans seated himself in front of the window and watched him as he hurried toward the grove.

Just then the door opened, and old Ike thrust his head into the room.

“Mr. Evans,” said he, in a cautious whisper, “I can’t keep this secret in much longer. It’s growing bigger every minute, and I shall have to tell it pretty soon, or bust!”

“You hold your tongue—that’s all you have to do,” said Mr. Evans, sternly.

“But what will the boys do to me, when they find it out?” asked Ike, anxiously.

“The boys needn’t know anything about it until the law gets ready to take hold of Sam and Arthur. Mr. Howard is entirely innocent.”

Ike was both astonished and disgusted—astonished to learn that the new master of the ranch was in no way responsible for the occurrences of the preceding day, and disgusted to hear that the guilty ones were to be punished by process of law.

The United States marshal, who would probably take the matter in hand, was much too slow and deliberate in his movements to suit Ike, and, besides, the punishment he would inflict upon the culprits would not be commensurate with their offence.

Ike lingered a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, and then disappeared, closing the door softly behind him.

Uncle Bob was gone a long time—so long, in fact, that Mr. Evans began to grow anxious, and even alarmed. He did not at all like the look he saw in Ike’s eye, and he knew that every moment was of the utmost value to Arthur and his father.

To his great relief, Uncle Bob appeared at last, and Mr. Evans noticed that when he emerged from the grove he was mopping his face with his handkerchief, and that he moved with very unsteady steps.

He staggered into the office and threw himself into his chair without speaking. There was no need that the visitor should make any inquiries, for his appearance and actions told in plain language that he had passed through a trying ordeal in the grove, and that, during his long interview with Arthur, he had learned some startling things.

“I have not another word to say,” he managed to gasp, at length. “What do you advise me to do?”

“To leave the valley at once—this very hour, and put yourself and Arthur under the protection of the troops at Camp Clark.”

“Do you think the danger as great as that?” asked Uncle Bob, who, frightened as he was, spoke calmly.

“I know it,” said Mr. Evans, with emphasis.

“Do you think the herdsmen will allow us to leave the ranch?”

“We must take our chances on that; and it is now or never. They are scattered all over the valley; but a great many of them will be in at dark, and I will not attempt to say what the consequences will be if they find you here. I will act as your guide, and no doubt get myself into trouble by doing it. If you are going to take my advice, be quick about it. If you are not, I will go home.”

These words aroused Uncle Bob, who jumped up and put his hand into his pocket, at the same time turning toward the safe.

“I will order two horses saddled at once,” said he.

“Give no orders whatever,” replied Mr. Evans, quickly, “unless you want to arouse Ike’s suspicions. Go to the corral and get your own horses, and act as if you were going to ride about the ranch.”

“Well, we shall need some money to help us along,” said Uncle Bob, picking up a pair of saddle-bags that lay on the table. “I suppose I have a right to take what is in the safe? It’s mine, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” replied Mr. Evans.

And, although Uncle Bob would not have confessed the fact, even to himself, the tone in which the words were spoken removed a heavy burden of anxiety from his mind.

Although no attempt had been made to assist Bob and his friend after their boat went into the canyon, simply because everybody knew it would be useless, Uncle Bob had been constantly haunted by the fear that the boy might escape death in some miraculous way, and come back to rob him of the millions of which he believed himself to be the owner.

But Mr. Evans did not seem to think that such a thing could possibly happen, and so Uncle Bob breathed easier.

“But you mustn’t take those things with you,” added the visitor, as Uncle Bob walked toward the safe with the saddle-bags in his hand. “You will never get out of the valley if you do. Be content with what you can carry in your pockets, and leave the rest here until you can communicate with Mr. Jacobs.”

Uncle Bob thought it best to act upon this suggestion; but, after he had stuffed his pockets as full of greenbacks as they could hold, he did not seem to have made any impression upon the contents of the safe. It looked as full as ever; and the greedy old man could not bear the thought of leaving any of his ill-gotten wealth behind.

“These packages are so large that I cannot take many of them with me,” said he, with a deep sigh of regret. “Will you carry some of them?”

“I wouldn’t touch a dollar of that money,” answered Mr. Evans, adding, mentally, “I don’t see how you can do it, either.”

“By-the-way,” said Uncle Bob, as he locked the safe and put the key in one of the bookcases, so that Mr. Jacobs could find it when he wrote to him for the rest of the money, “you spoke about acting as our guide as far as Camp Clark. Why don’t you show us the way to Dixon Springs while you are about it? I want to go back to the States as soon as I can.”

“Camp Clark is about eighty miles nearer, and I want to see you surrounded by the boys in blue before I leave you,” replied Mr. Evans. “They are the only ones who can save you. Now, if you are ready, come on and act— I meant to have told you yesterday that we never think of shearing our sheep on our ranches. It is much easier and cheaper to drive them to the nearest station and shear them there, than it would be to buy or hire wagons enough to haul the wool over these mountains.”

These last words were spoken in a loud tone of voice, and were intended for Ike’s especial benefit.

As Mr. Evans opened the door rather suddenly, he saw that worthy but suspicious individual beat a hasty retreat along the porch and dive into the kitchen. He banged the kettles and pans about for a moment or two, and then he stopped and looked out at the door.

Mr. Evans and Uncle Bob were walking slowly toward the corral, stopping now and then to look about them. They did not act as if they were in a hurry, but Ike was not deceived.

“Mebbe that plan will work, and then again mebbe it won’t,” said the latter, shaking his head knowingly. “Mr. Evans is pretty smart, but there is them in the world that are just as smart as he is.”

Having put saddles and bridles on three of the best horses they could find in the corral, Mr. Evans and his companion mounted and rode toward the grove, Uncle Bob leading the animal that was intended for Arthur’s use.

The latter was on the lookout for them, for his father had told him that Mr. Evans advised immediate flight. He was trembling all over, and his terror made him so weak that he could hardly mount his horse; but, with his father’s assistance, he managed to get into the saddle at last, and then Mr. Evans led the way across the valley toward the road that ran to the top of the cliffs.

“Mebbe that plan will work, and mebbe it won’t. The fellows who sent poor Bob down to the inside of the earth ain’t going to get off as easy as they think they are. Mr. Evans is gone now, and I’ll tell my story to Mr. Jacobs the very first thing I do.”

The speaker was old Ike, the cook, who, from his place of concealment behind one of the outbuildings, saw all that went on in the grove. He knew that Mr. Evans intended to lead Arthur and his father to a place of safety, and he was determined to prevent it if he could.

With this object in view, he turned about and ran toward the corral at the top of his speed.