“I didn’t steal him. I traded my own horse for him.” “Then why didn’t you give him up when the owner came for him?” asked the Mexican. “Well, he’s gone now,” said Ned, who did not know how to answer this question, “and the owner is welcome to him if he can find him. I can tell why you kept my secret: You knew the raiders were coming here to-night, and you intended to tell them about the horse, so that they could steal it. I didn’t know before that you were a thief, but I have often told myself that you looked like one.” The Mexican was on the point of replying, and had already prefaced the remarks he intended to make, by a Spanish oath, when the rattling of a chain and the sudden opening of a door in the rancho, put a stop to the conversation. Ned at once jumped out of the manger and started toward the house, and the Mexican, instead of hiding himself, as the boy thought he would, followed close behind him. “Who’s that?” demanded the herdsman, who had opened the door; and Ned saw his revolver glisten in the moonlight, as the weapon was raised and pointed straight at his head. “Don’t shoot!” he cried, quickly. “Wal, I’ll be dog-goned!” exclaimed the herdsman. “Where have you two been? We have been looking all over the house for you, and we began to believe that the raiders had carried you off with them!” Ned said just enough in reply to excite the man’s astonishment, but not enough to explain what had happened, and made his way toward his father’s room, still followed by the cook. The latter seemed to say by his actions, that he intended to hear all Ned had to tell his father, and that if the boy knew when he was well off, he wouldn’t tell too much. Ned perfectly understood this silent threat, and during the interview with his father, whom he found in his office, almost prostrated by excitement and fear, was careful to say nothing at which Philip could take offence. He said that, being unable to sleep, he had gone out into the shed and stayed there, with his horse for company; that the raiders had appeared so suddenly that he could not reach the house without running the risk of being captured or shot by them; that his horse had called to them, and that he had been obliged to turn the animal loose, for fear that he would lead the raiders to his place of concealment; and that he had lain there in the manger, an unwilling witness to the first (and he sincerely hoped it would be the last) fight he had ever seen carried on with firearms. “I can’t begin to tell you what a time I had out there!” said he, in conclusion. “I never had bullets come so close to me before!” “Probably not,” said his father. “Where were you all the while, Philip?” “I was under the porch, sir,” was the answer; and Ned, who would have been glad to expose the villain then and there, did not contradict the statement. “I didn’t have time to get into the house, so I concealed myself.”