“I did it,” said he to himself, as he hurried along, “and whether or not I have done any good by it, time will tell. If they don’t get off their course, they’ll reach Dickerman’s to-night about dark, and then they’ll find out that they have been put on a wrong scent, and gone forty miles out of their way. Dickerman will set them right, and the question is: Can I see Mr. Gilbert and reach home before they can get there? I never needed a horse so badly before.” Little did Ned Ackerman, who spent this particular day in company with his friend Gus Robbins, shooting down the cattle that had broken into his wheat-field, know of the race that was begun that morning—a race between a pair of swift horses, which had between seventy and eighty miles to travel, and a frightened, panting and footsore boy, who dragged himself wearily over thirty-five miles of prairie, to save a scapegrace relative, who would not have lifted a finger in behalf of that same weary boy, had their situations been reversed. The odds were sadly against George. He could have spent a week in the saddle with little or no inconvenience, but three days on foot tested his endurance to the utmost. Nothing but his will kept him up. He won the race, but, as we shall see, with little time to spare. As the day wore away, and George drew nearer to Mr. Gilbert’s rancho, which was the first one he would reach on his way to the settlement, he kept a good lookout for some of that gentleman’s herdsmen, hoping that he could prevail upon them to lend him a horse; but as he did not see any of them, he was compelled to make the entire journey on foot. He reached his destination shortly after nightfall, and found Mr. Gilbert sitting on the porch, enjoying his after-supper pipe. The gentleman started up in surprise, when he saw George approaching, and hurried down the steps to meet him. His greeting was as cordial and friendly as usual, but there was something in his manner that the boy had never noticed before. He could not have told what it was, but he could see it plainly. “Come right in, George,” said he, seizing the boy’s hand and shaking it heartily. “You walk as though you were completely tired out; so I’ll not trouble you with questions until you’ve had a supper and a good night’s rest.” “I would be thankful for some supper,” replied George, “but I can’t stay all night. I am in an awful hurry.” “And why should you be in such an awful hurry, I’d like to know?” said Mr. Gilbert, as he assisted George up the steps and led him into the house. “Here’s an easy-chair, and I know you will find——” “Not in there, please,” said George, drawing back as Mr. Gilbert was about to open the door leading into the cosy living-room, in which his family was assembled. “Let’s go into the office. I have something particular to say to you.”