Once outside again they found that the punchers still hung around as though understanding that their services would soon be needed in some way.

With something like his old decisive way of handling men, before his spirit had been almost broken through constant quarrels with his wife, Mr. Comstock picked out such men as he thought ought to be sent out in the two parties, with orders to drive all the stock into the corrals with all haste possible.

One of these was placed in charge of Donald. Besides himself it consisted of three of the suspects and four reliable punchers, eight in all; and they were to go after the larger herd known to be feeding on the hillsides some miles off.

Adrian himself had lanky George Hess, one of his new men, a puncher known as Monkey Jones on account of his agility on the back of a pony, but who was one of Mr. Comstock’s select list, and two of the suspects. They expected to round up a smaller bunch of long-horns, and get them home safely.

Billie watched all these proceedings as though wondering where he came in.

“Don’t I ride along with you, Adrian?” he asked, plaintively, when there was no mention of his name given, and the two parties prepared to sally forth.

“No, not this time, Billie,” replied the other, softly, for some of the men were close by, looking to their saddle-girths, and in other ways making sure things were all right before galloping forth; “Uncle Fred has to stay at home, and you had better keep him company. You see how things stand. We’ll have a warm ride of it; and you never did like driving cattle, you know. Besides, if you are sighing for excitement who knows what may happen here while the rest of us are gone; and you’d better make it a point not to get separated from your rifle, for even one minute!”

Billie’s eyes grew round with comprehension. He could not get the angry face of Mrs. Fred out of his mind; and he felt that Adrian must refer to her when he spoke of trouble springing up.

“Say, I reckon now that’s right,” he replied. “You never know what a woman’s agoin’ to do, any more’n you can tell which way she’s meaning to throw a ball by the way she aims. And poor old Uncle Fred looks like he needed a guardian some, too. So I’ll stick it out here at home; but get back as soon as you can, Adrian. Mebbe a bunch of them Walkers might run in on us here, and with only two men to hold ’em off, why, we’d need assistance, you see.”

Satisfied that Billie was contented to carry out the part of the plan assigned to him Adrian hurried over to where he had left his horse. One of the cowboys belonging to the ranch was standing close by, and when Adrian saw that he happened to be one of the untrustworthy ones who had been picked out to accompany him on the drive, he wondered whether the fellow might not have planned to do something to injure his precious mount.

At least Ten Spot was holding his ears far back, and acting in a vicious manner, as though determined not to allow the stranger to lay hands on him.

When Adrian gave the fellow a keen look he mumbled something about meaning to “fetch the boss’ horse to him, only the animal wouldn’t let him come near;” and then shuffled away to where his own pony was standing.

“I’ll look out for you, my hearty,” thought the boy, for if ever there had been such a thing as treachery on any face, he had seen it there in those shifting eyes and hangdog attitude.

Presently the two parties started off. Of course they would not be genuine cow-punchers if they had not shown more or less extravagance in their way of riding, every fellow seeming to have some favorite way of jumping into his saddle, and then dashing away at headlong speed, waving his hat or his hand, and perhaps giving vent to shrill yells.

Away they coursed over the prairie, one to the north, and the other heading further east. Of course both Adrian and Donald depended entirely on the local punchers to find the cattle; and were wide-awake and not to be deceived by anything that might be said by one of those under the ban, who would possibly want to lead them astray, so that precious time must be lost.

Billie stood and watched them depart with a feeling of despondency. He disliked seeing his two chums leave him, even if it was for only a short time. But then he remembered what Adrian had said about his being “on guard,” and that something was likely to happen there while the others were gone, that would call for valor on his part.

He meant to stand by Uncle Fred, though secretly Billie hoped deep down in his heart that this would not bring him into personal contact with that black-eyed woman who could cast a look on a fellow as though she might be tempted to eat him.

The riders galloped steadily on until they looked like specks in the distance. Of course their return would be considerably slower, because they would then be driving obstinate cattle; and no matter how dextrous the punchers might be, delays were sure to occur.

“I hope they don’t run upon any snag,” Billie was muttering to himself, as he noticed that the smaller party had already vanished from his view; “because, after all that’s been said and done, I think Adrian deserves to save what long-horns he’s got left here on his ranch. Now, who was that peeking at me around the corner of that bunk house? Somebody drawed back like a flash, and acted suspicious, seems like. Reckon it’s up to me to investigate the same. P’raps now this might turn out to be the trouble that Adrian hinted would as like as not crop up here, and which he said I would have to handle. Here goes, then!”

Saying this Billie cautiously handled his repeating rifle, so that it lay in the crotch of his left arm; while he touched the trigger with the forefinger of his right hand; and having so arranged matters he took several bold steps toward the spot where he had seen that head vanish.

His heart seemed to be in his mouth as he turned the corner of the building, for he did not know what sort of a reception might greet him.

No sooner had he done this than he gave a relieved gasp. There was indeed a cringing figure there, but he immediately recognized the fellow as Mr. Thomas, the pilgrim whom they had succored on the trail to Bar-S Ranch, and who hoped to get some sort of position there, at least with a chance of three square meals a day as payment for his clerical services.

“Oh! it’s only you, is it?” grunted Billie, lowering the rifle that was trembling in his nervous grip.

“Yes, that’s all,” whined the other. “Hope I didn’t alarm you any when I poked my head out to see if the coast was clear.”

“What, alarm me?” answered the fat boy, in a voice of lofty scorn; “well, let me tell you it’d take a whole lot more’n that to scare me. You saw how quick I stepped around here to find out what it meant, didn’t you? That don’t look like I could be so easy frightened, does it? Well, I should say not. But what’re you hanging out here for, when you might as well go to the house? Didn’t Adrian tell you to stay for a time anyhow; and he’s the boss here, you must know.”

“But I don’t want to go to the house at all,” remonstrated the man, as he heaved a long sigh, and looked nervously around. “Fact is, I’ve changed my mind about acceptin’ any work here. I might stay around till tomorrow, sleeping out in the bunk house with the boys; and then if there’s a wagon going to town I’ll go along. I’ve remembered a very important engagement that I ought to keep, you see. That’s why I couldn’t think of staying here.”

“Huh! seems to me it’s mighty funny you didn’t think of that same before you ever started out on the trail,” Billie grunted, eying the other half suspiciously; while to himself he was saying: “Wonder now what does ail the fellow? Ever since he set eyes on Mr. Comstock he acts different from what he did. Say, wonder if he could have done the gent an injury, and recognized him when he came here? I reckon I had ought to keep an eye on Mister Thomas; who knows what he might be up to? But I won’t let him know he’s under suspicion. I’ll just pretend to let it pass along, and watch him out of the corner of my left optic.”

Following out this policy Billie engaged the other in conversation. If he expected that the said Mr. Thomas would let fall any sort of hint that would tell him why he had really changed his mind so suddenly, Billie must have been disappointed, for the other made no mention of his own affairs, seeming to be more interested in the possibility of trouble, should the dreaded Walkers come down upon Bar-S Ranch, meaning to take by open force what they had failed to secure through the stampede.

“If they do tackle your crowd there’s apt to be a fight on, I take it,” he remarked, “and more’n likely now somebody might get hurt. Guess it was the worst thing I ever set out to do when that notion of getting a job at the Bar-S popped into my silly head. Jumpin’ right out of the frying-pan into the fire, so to speak. But how’d I ever dream I’d run acrost—but I was going to say that when it comes time to feed p’raps you’ll remember I’m out here in the bunk house, and fetch me just a few bites. I’m half sick, and my leg hurts like anything, which is why I hadn’t ought to go in, to eat with the rest. But I just know I’ll feed worse if I ain’t had a few bites. You won’t forget, will you, Mister Billie?”

Of course the fat boy promised to remember; but he thought it more than suspicious that Thomas made such a silly excuse for keeping away from the rest. He hugged the idea to his heart that the man had another reason, and a good one too, for avoiding Uncle Fred; because, you see Billie did not know that they had already met, and been “introduced” by Adrian, with no unpleasant discovery and explosion as a result.

Being very frank himself it was just like Billie to say something along these lines to the other, which he did in this way:

“Strikes me, Mr. Thomas, that you don’t hanker much about striking up an acquaintance with Adrian’s Uncle Fred. I only hope now that you haven’t done anything to injure him in the past.”

At that the man looked carefully about him, and then coming up to Billie laid a hand confidentially on his arm, as he went on to say softly:

“I understand what you’re thinking about, sir, and I hasten to assure you that your suspicions are all unfounded. I never injured Mr. Comstock, and I sure didn’t rob him of anything in all my life. Fact is, the boot is on the other leg, if you come right down to hard facts. But I’m not complaining, not one whit. He’s as welcome as the daylight. Let’s talk of other things, my young friend. And please turn that repeating gun the other way. It makes me nervous to see it pointing right at me. There, that’s better; but I think I’d better go in and lie down, I’m feeling that bad.”