When George awoke it was just daylight. The ranchemen were already stirring, and one was folding the blankets, while the other was punching up the fire to obtain a light for his pipe. “Good-morning, my lad,” said the latter, cheerfully. “We thought, seeing we had no breakfast to eat, that we would solace ourselves with a smoke. Now, if you will put us on our course, we shall be much obliged to you.” “The rancho you want to reach lies directly east of here and is about thirty-five miles distant,” answered George, after he had returned the man’s greeting. “Hold a straight course for the sun, until you strike a big trail running north and south. Turn south on that trail, and when you have followed it about ten miles, you will strike Mr. Gilbert’s rancho. He will direct you the rest of the way. I have thought a good deal about what you told me last night, and I can’t understand why that boy kept that horse.” “Neither can I,” said the rancheman. “As he is a boy, I hope you will be easy with him,” continued George. “I will; but the next time he sees a stolen horse he will run from it, I bet you!” It was plain that the rancheman had not yet relented, and that he never would relent; so George fell back on the plan he had determined upon the night before. “Yes, the boy needs a lesson,” said he; “but for his father’s sake, I hope you will not be too severe. I have been acquainted with Mr. Dickerman for a long time, and I know him to be an honest man. You needn’t think he would——” “Dickerman!” interrupted the man who had been called Joe. “Who said anything about Dickerman? Ackerman is the fellow we are talking about.” “O, _Ac_kerman!” repeated George, with a tone of voice and an expression of countenance which led the man to believe that he had all the while been mistaken as to the identity of the person they wanted to find. “Well, you don’t want to travel east, then. Your course lays off here,” he added, pointing almost due north. “If you ride in that direction, you ought by dark to strike some of the ranches in the settlement in which this man lives.” “Then we were completely turned around, Joe. I thought we ought to travel _that_ way,” said one of the men, pointing almost directly toward the Ackerman rancho. “Well, my lad, good-by. Many thanks for your information, and the best of luck to you!” The men mounted their horses, which they had brought in and saddled while this conversation was going on, and rode away, leaving George standing beside his fire. As soon as they disappeared behind the nearest ridge, he caught up his haversack, plunged into the woods and drew a straight course for home. His face was whiter than it usually was, and his heart beat audibly.