The boy spent one more night alone on the prairie, and on the afternoon of the second day found Zeke’s camp. As he emerged from a belt of post-oaks, through which he had been riding for the last hour, he saw a small herd of cattle feeding on the prairie, and was welcomed by a shrill neigh, which came from the direction of a fire that was burning in the edge of the timber a short distance away. Bony answered the greeting with a long-drawn bray, and Ranger, breaking into a gallop, carried his rider into the camp, where he was met by a tall, broad-shouldered man, who arose from his blanket as he approached. This was Zeke. What his other name was George did not know; in fact, he did not believe that Zeke knew it himself. If a stranger had judged Zeke by his appearance, he would have put him down as anything but an agreeable or safe companion. He was rough and uncouth in person and manners, and as bronzed and weather-beaten as any old salt. His hair, which fell down upon his shoulders, and the luxuriant whiskers and mustache that almost concealed his face, were as white as snow, and bore evidence to the fact that he carried the weight of many years on his shoulders; but his form was as erect as an Indian’s, and his step as firm and quick as it had been in the days of his youth. He looked like one possessed of immense physical power, as indeed he was; and those who had seen him in moments of danger, knew that he had the courage to back up his strength. He was as faithful as a man could be, and ready to do and dare anything in defence of his young employer. George had selected him from among the numerous herdsmen employed on his father’s ranche, and they had been almost inseparable companions ever since. “I am glad to see you, Zeke,” said the boy, as he swung himself out of the saddle, and placed his hand in the broad palm that was extended toward him, “for, to tell the truth, I have felt afraid ever since I found your letter down there in the grove. I can’t help believing that something is going to happen. Have you seen anything more of the Indians?” “No,” replied Zeke. “They went t’wards the settlements.” “That’s bad for the settlers, but good for us. We’re safe,” said George, drawing a long breath. “Not by no means, we hain’t safe. Them Apaches must come back, mustn’t they?” George hadn’t thought of that. Of course, the Indians must come back, if they intended to return to their own country, and George did not like to think of what would happen, if he and Zeke and their herd of cattle should chance to cross their path. They _did_ cross the path of a band of raiders—some who were looking for them and knew just where to find them,—and before he was many days older, George was the hero of one or two startling adventures, and also gained some items of information, from various sources, that almost overwhelmed him with wonder and amazement! CHAPTER VIII. NED’S NEW HORSE.