Uncle John did not like to be watched so closely, and Ned didn’t like it either, for the reason that his father could not give him as much money as he wanted. Ned would have cut a fine dash if he had possessed the necessary funds, and Uncle John would have been only too glad to furnish him with all the cash he demanded if he could have done so without George’s knowledge. All Uncle John wanted was to fill his pockets and Ned’s; and the latter, to assist him in accomplishing his object, set himself to work to make the house so unpleasant for George that he would not stay there. He had determined upon this before he had been two days at the ranche, and he had succeeded beyond his expectations. George seemed to think a great deal more of Zeke’s company than he did of Uncle John’s and Ned’s, and often said that he preferred a blanket at night and a life in the saddle to his room at home and the lonely existence he led while he was there. He spent more than half his time in camp, but came home whenever he wanted supplies for himself and herdsman, and spent three or four days in riding about taking note of things. Ned always dreaded these visits, and wished he could hit upon some plan to put a stop to them. “I thought I had hit upon something,” said Ned, to himself, as he jumped down the steps and walked toward the corral, which was the name given to the enclosure in which the riding-horses belonging to the ranche were kept. “And I believe yet that if father would only take his herd away from him he would be too discouraged to start another. He would have to do something, of course—George isn’t the one to remain long idle—and as there is no other business he can go into in this country, perhaps he would go off somewhere to seek his fortune and leave us a clear field. I wish Gus Robbins was here now. Two heads are better than one, and perhaps he could suggest something.”