“Hallo yourself!” replied Philip, stopping his horse and turning him around, so that his head pointed toward the rancho, instead of away from it. “O, now you’re all right,” said another voice. “That’s one of Ackerman’s men. He’ll show you the way, an’ I’ll go hum. I’m sorry I lost the trail, an’ tuk you so fur outen your way—I am so; but it’s powerful dark, an’ my eyes ain’t none of the best.” “Well, I should think a ten-year-old boy ought to know the trails in his own neighborhood,” growled the man who had shouted out the hail. “You have delayed us more than half an hour.” “And he did it on purpose, too,” thought Philip. “That’s Gilbert’s man, and he knows the country like a book for two hundred miles around.” “Hallo, there!” came the hail again. “Hallo yourself!” was Philip’s answer. “Can you show us the way to Ackerman’s?” “I can. I am going right there.” “Then you can go home,” said the horseman, addressing himself to the man whom Mr. Gilbert had sent to act as guide. “We’ve seen enough of you.” The herdsman, taking him at his word, rode off at once; and presently the owner of the stolen horse and his companion galloped up to the place where Philip was standing. The latter looked closely at them for a moment, and exclaimed: “O! I know who you are now. You’re the gentlemen who came to our rancho the other night and borrowed two fresh horses. Did you catch him?” “No,” growled one of the horsemen. Philip waited for him to say something more, but the man did not seem to be in the humor for talking just then. No doubt he was reserving all he had to say for Uncle John’s private ear. After they had ridden a short distance, Philip said: “I’m sorry you didn’t catch him. Mr. Ackerman will be sure to ask particularly about it, when he comes home.” “When he comes home!” “Yes; he isn’t here, you know.” “Where is he?” “He and his son started for Palos this morning.” The horsemen looked at each other and uttered a volley of exclamations, that seemed to astonish Philip greatly. “Perhaps you wanted to see Mr. Ackerman?” said he. “I should say we did!” replied the owner of the stolen horse. “I am sorry. He’ll not be back for two or three weeks, for he took a mule-wagon with him, and is going to bring back a heavy load.” “You say his son went with him. Did he go in the wagon?” “O, no; he rode on horseback.” “What sort of a looking horse was it?” “A dark chestnut, with white mane and tail and four white feet. It was a new horse he traded for a few days ago. The house is open, just the same as if Mr. Ackerman was there, and we shall be glad to give you——” “We wouldn’t stay in his house to-night under any circumstances!” was the angry reply. “Bring out our horses as quick as you can, and let us get away; that’s all we ask of you!” “I’ll do that. Any word to leave for Mr. Ackerman?” “Not a word! We’ve got plenty to say to him and that boy of his, but we’ll say it to their faces.” “It is nothing bad, I hope!”