Ned seemed to be in the best of spirits. He kept his horse in a full gallop, until he reached the top of the swell, and there he reined him in very suddenly, for he caught sight of two horsemen on the other side. Shading his eyes with his hand, he gazed earnestly at them for a few minutes, and then started down the swell to meet them. He recognised one of them as the herdsman who had been sent to assist the drover in driving down the cattle he had purchased of Uncle John, and something told him that his companion could be none other than the long-expected Gus Robbins. We know that it was Gus, and we have already described the meeting that took place between the two boys. We know, too, that Mose rode on to the rancho, to report his arrival to his employer, and that the boys followed him leisurely, talking every step of the way. “I say, Ned,” said Gus, suddenly, “you live in an awful lonesome place, don’t you?” “Yes,” replied Ned; “it is very lonely, and that is one reason why I wanted you to come down here.” “There is plenty of hunting, I suppose,” continued Gus; “but that is something I don’t know much about. I can handle a yard-stick better than I can handle a gun. Is there any fishing, or are there any good fellows to run with?” “I haven’t heard of anybody going fishing since I have been here; and as for the fellows, I don’t know a boy in the neighborhood.” “Why, what in the world do you do to pass the time away?” “I don’t do anything. I just keep still and let it pass itself away.” “That’s a jolly way to live!” said Gus. “It’s better than standing behind a counter all day, handling over goods for people who don’t want anything, and who, after they have tired you out, spend five cents for a spool of thread, and think they have paid you for the trouble they have caused you. But, Ned, we can’t get into any scrapes here, can we?” “Can’t we, though!” exclaimed Ned. “I know a story worth two of that. Why, boy, I am in a worse scrape to-day than you ever dreamed of, and I got into it just as easy! It was no trouble at all.” “You have been talking too much,” said Gus, who remembered that his friend had more than once got himself into serious trouble by the too free use of his tongue. “No, I haven’t,” said Ned, quickly. “I have been talking too little; that’s the trouble. But it is a long story, and I must take a spare half hour in which to tell it to you; then I want you to give me your advice, for I don’t know what to do.” “I guess I can help you, if anybody can. I have helped you out of more than one close corner, haven’t I? Do you remember how we used to go about Foxboro’ of nights, changing gates and signs, and stretching ropes across the walk to trip the people who passed by?” “I haven’t forgotten. Are you up to such things now?” “Yes, or anything else that has fun in it!”