The boy was greatly astonished, and he was certain, too, that he knew what Springer was trying to get at. He seated himself on the ground with his back against a neighboring tree, and said as calmly as he could: “You must speak plainer than that if you want me to know just what you mean!” “I mean jist this yere,” said Springer; “an I’ll tell you ‘cause you was good enough to come here an’ give me the drink of water I was starvin’ fur, an’ feed me outen your grub when you haint got enough to eat yourself. George, you are in danger every day you spend at your rancho! Your uncle and cousin don’t want you there, an’ they aint goin’ to let you stay nuther!” George thought from what Springer said before that he had some such revelation as this to make, but when it came it almost took his breath away. He had long been of the opinion that his relatives didn’t want him at the rancho, but how could this cattle-thief, who lived miles away on the other side of the river, have found it out? The man talked in a positive tone, as though he knew all about it, and this was what surprised George. There was one thing certain, however: He was not going to discuss family matters with any such fellow as Springer. “I’ll tell you what it is,” said he, as he arose to his feet and slung his haversack over his shoulders. “I’ll not stay here if you are going to insult my uncle and cousin!” “Say, George, whar you goin’?” demanded Springer. “I am going to start on again. Shall I put you on your horse before I go?” “You needn’t go off mad,” said the man, earnestly, “‘cause every word I’m tellin’ you is the gospel truth. We got it all through Philip!” “Got all what through Philip?” asked George. “I mean we done all our business through him; an’ if I was in your place, I’d go home an’ bundle him outen the house, neck an’ heels. He’s makin’ mischief thar, _I_ tell you. He told us we’d find you in that grove on Brown’s Run; an’ when we didn’t find you thar, we follered your trail to Catfish Falls.” “But how did Philip know I was going to that grove?” demanded George, growing more and more bewildered. “What’s the use of me tellin’ you when you’ll get mad?” asked Springer in reply. “The under-standin’ atween us, was, that arter we had drove off your three hundred head of stock, we was to come over agin, in a week or two, an’ we would find a thousand more head whar we could get ‘em easy.” “Who was going to put them where you could get them easy?” “If I tell you, you’ll get mad at me. But mind you, we wasn’t to get them thousand head unless we gobbled you. The fellers done their level best, but couldn’t find you!” “What were you going to do with me if you found me?” “That’s something I can’t tell. Nobody but Fletcher knows that.” “Who’s Fletcher?” “He’s the boss—the cap’n.” “Who told you to gobble me?”