Ned threw himself upon a sofa—he was still so very nervous and frightened that he dared not undress and go to bed—and thought over the exciting adventures which had been crowded into the last few hours, and racked his brain in the vain hope of finding some way out of the difficulties he had got into. Two things were plain to him: Philip was there in the rancho for no good purpose, and he did not intend to expose Ned, unless the latter said something to direct suspicion toward himself. It was humiliating, to say the least, to have a servant in the house who could get him into serious trouble at any time he chose to open his mouth; but Ned could think of no way to get rid of him, and there was no one to whom he could go for advice. He must keep his own counsel until Gus Robbins arrived. Ned knew that his friend had been in many a scrape himself; that it was a very serious difficulty indeed out of which he could not work his way, and perhaps Gus could help him. In the meantime, he resolved he would have as little to do with the Mexican as possible. He would not speak to him, or even look at him, if he could help it, and at the same time he would show him by his actions that he was not afraid of him. Having made up his mind to this Ned rearranged his pillow and tried to go to sleep; but his brain was too active and his senses too keenly alive to every external impression. If he kept his eyes open he saw the raiders as plainly as he could have seen them if they had been there in his room; and if he closed his eyes to shut them out from view he distinctly heard their yells, the reports of their revolvers and carbines, and could feel the sofa vibrate under his hand just as the planks which formed the manger had vibrated when the bullets passed through them. Once or twice he started up in great alarm, believing that he heard the porch creak just as it did when he saw the raiders step upon it. At last the creaking sounded in the hall; and so positive was Ned that the thieves had returned and the Mexican cook had let them into the house again that he took his rifle out of the wardrobe which served him for a closet, put a cartridge into it and sat down on the sofa, holding the weapon in readiness to send a ball through the door the instant a hand was laid upon the latch.