STRANGE PROCEEDINGS.

THE elder Texan turned to the boys and said:

“I must ask you to excuse Baker and me for a few minutes, while we discuss a little private business.”

It was a singular request, but Nick and Herbert nodded their heads. Striking their ponies into a quick gallop, the cowboys rode a hundred yards or so in advance, before bringing their animals down to a walk. The gait of the youths was the same.

The remark made by Strubell concerning Rickard, caused Herbert to ask what it meant. Nick told him the story, adding:

“They are talking now about him and the others: look at them!”

The Texans were certainly discussing some subject with great earnestness. Inasmuch as they kept glancing to the eastward, gesticulating and often pointing in that direction, there was little doubt that Nick was right in his surmise as to the theme of their conversation.

“I wonder what it can be,” said Herbert, after watching the couple, who modulated their voices so that not a word could be recognized; “it seems strange that they should treat the horse thief as a friend, when they know him to be an enemy.”

“Well, I have been trying to figure it out; I supposed they would make it clear to me, but though I heard them speak about it to each other this morning, they took care not to give me a word in the way of explanation. I shall not ask them, though I was never more curious to learn anything in all my life.”

“It can’t be that Strubell and Lattin are on friendly terms with Rickard?” suggested Herbert.

“I might think so, after what we have just seen, though it seems cruel to suspect them of anything like that. Mr. Lord has known them for years, and says two more honest men never lived.”

“You are brighter than I am, Nick; what is your theory?”

“Well, it is clear that Strubell and Lattin had the choice of shooting down Rickard when I drove him into camp, or of letting him go. They knew it was of no use to ask a pledge of him in payment for their kindness, for he wouldn’t regard any promise as binding; so, not willing to treat him as he deserved, perhaps they took the fellow for what he was, and then let him go.”

“You may be right, but the explanation doesn’t amount to much, and doesn’t satisfy me.”

“Nor me either. I would like to hear yours.”

“I haven’t any. They are hard at it now!”

The Texans were talking more excitedly than ever, but did not forget to keep their voices so low that no stray word reached the ears of the puzzled youths.

The conference, however, speedily reached its conclusion. Their talking ceased, and, bringing their horses to a standstill, they waited for the boys and the pack horses to join them.

The faces of Strubell and Lattin showed signs of the stirring conversation, but, as the boys anticipated, they were silent as to the theme.

“We must make a change in our course,” said the elder, who immediately turned the head of his pony to the westward, in the direction of the hills among which they had spent the previous night. It was near noon, and the major part of the day was gone, when they reached the rougher section where the Texans said the camp was to be made.

They showed their usual good judgment in the selection of a favorable site, for it was near another running stream, larger than the previous one, though the current was roiled and lukewarm. They might count themselves fortunate, however, that they were able to find water at all; for thirst has caused the death of untold thousands of cattle on the vast plains of Texas, and brought great suffering to those who have ventured not alone upon the Llano Estacado, but in other localities where moisture is almost unknown.

The pack horses were unloaded, saddles and bridles removed, and the ponies allowed to crop the scanty grass. It was too early for the regular evening meal, but considerable fuel was gathered; and, much sooner than there seemed to be any need for it, a fire was started, the smoke from which rose vertically, and was of so dark a color that it must have been visible for a long distance across the plain.

During all this time the three horsemen in the eastern horizon were not forgotten. The glasses were often turned thither, and there could be no doubt that Rickard and his companions were keeping our friends in sight. Evidently they were determined that they should not be lost.

The use of spy glasses has never been common among the cowmen, who are generally gifted with such keen eyesight that they scorn everything in the nature of artificial help. Counting upon this fact, it was not unlikely that Rickard believed that, by hovering on the line of invisibility, he would escape attention, or at least suspicion, on the part of the Texans. Had he known of the field glasses, he must have made an important change in his programme.

The fact that our friends were without a particle of food did not cause them concern. They were not likely to suffer from starvation, for, beside the stray cattle that they were warranted in using in an emergency (always holding themselves ready to reimburse the owner when it could be done), there were antelope and other animals to be found among the hills.

But Lattin stated that, unless some kind of game would be accommodating enough to come forward and offer itself as a sacrifice to their needs, they would content themselves with a good cup of coffee around, making up for the light meal when morning should come.

When the sun sank behind the hills, Rickard and his party became invisible to the naked eye. The supposition might have been that they had withdrawn and would be seen no more, but for the story told by the field glasses. Under their power it was discovered that the scamps had dismounted near a small arroya or natural depression, and compelled their animals to lie down. Seating themselves at the same time on the grass, they filled too small an angle for the unassisted eye to note them across the intervening space.

Strubell turned to Lattin and spoke:

“Bell’s cunning, but he does not dream about the spy glasses.”

“We’re bound to hear from him before morning,” replied Lattin.

They did not mean that their words should be overheard, but Nick caught them all, though he affected ignorance.

The next sentences were meant for the youths.

“Hadn’t we better move over the trail into the hills, Ard?” asked the younger Texan, as though the idea had just come to him.

“Why should we do that?” inquired the other, as if in surprise.

“Well, you know of that spring where we’ve camped many a time, and once had the brush with half a hundred Comanches. There are more rocks and bowlders there, and everything is a blamed sight better for a fight than it is here.”

“Now, Baker, you aint so foolish as to think Bell and the others mean to disturb us?” asked Strubell, apparently forgetting the words uttered by himself only a few minutes before.

“Well, maybe not, but you know as well as me that it won’t do to trust him further than you can see him.”

“I tell you, Baker, what will be better,” spoke up Strubell, like a man with a new and brilliant idea; “we’ll send the boys ahead to the spring with the pack horses, while we wait here and find out just what Bell is up to.”

“That is a good plan,” added Lattin heartily; “let’s do it.”

The Texans now turned to Nick and Herbert, as though they did not suspect they had caught any of the conversation.

“Boys, we want to watch Bell and the others for a while, and have made up our minds to let you ride some distance over the trail, while we stay here and watch. I have proposed it, and Baker agrees that the plan is a good one. You have no objections?”

It occurred to Nick to ask in what way it was likely to improve their eyesight and the power of the glasses, by sending him and Herbert off. Surely their presence or absence could not operate one way or the other. The proposition was not very profound or bright, but, keeping back his thoughts, he promptly answered:

“Herbert and I are always ready to do cheerfully whatever you decide is best for us.”

“Thanks!—spoken like a man. Now, you see the trail just beyond,” added Strubell, pointing to a faintly marked path; “it has been used since the days of old Moses Austin and Sam Houston, and is so plain that you can’t miss it. It leads into the hills for a quarter of a mile, and then turns north through a sort of valley. A little more than half a mile further, and you will come upon one of the prettiest springs of water in Texas. There’s where you will unsaddle and make camp for to-night.”

“When will you join us?”

“We hope to do so in the course of a few hours, but don’t be alarmed if you see nothing of us before morning.”