During these two days nothing was heard of the missing George. The herdsman who had been sent out to make inquiries among the neighbors brought back the information that he had not been able to find any traces of him, and that seemed to settle the matter, so far as Uncle John and Ned were concerned. The two boys seldom spoke of him. They had more important matters to occupy their attention. They talked over old times to their hearts’ content, and Ned told Gus everything of interest that had happened to him since he came to Texas. The story of the stolen horse and the description of Philip’s strange conduct on the night of the fight were so incredible that Gus wouldn’t believe a word until he had seen the bullet holes in the manger and the lumber pile behind the shed had been torn down so that he could see the gold-mounted saddle and bridle. Then he looked bewildered, and, contrary to Ned’s expectation, could suggest nothing more than he had already thought of himself. “You ought to have given the horse up when the owner came for him,” said he. “You would have made something handsome by it probably.” “I know that as well as you do,” replied Ned. “But seeing I didn’t do it, how am I going to get myself out of the scrape?” “I don’t see that you are in any scrape. How far does the man who owns the horse live from here?” “Fifty or sixty miles.” “Did you ever see him before that night?” “I never did.” “Well, comfort yourself with the thought that you may never see him again. There’s nothing to bring him back here.” “O, yes there is. Didn’t I tell you that he and his companion rode off two of father’s horses? Of course they must bring them back. It isn’t a safe piece of business in this country, I tell you, for a man to keep a horse that doesn’t belong to him. The people won’t allow it.” “And you knew this all the while, and yet held fast to that stolen horse!” said Gus. “Now, look here,” exclaimed Ned, angrily, “I know that I was a blockhead. I was bound to keep the horse, and didn’t stop to think of the consequences. When I had a chance to give him up I did not dare do it, for fear that the owner would do something to me before I could explain matters to him.” “Well, the horse is gone now, and you are all right. If you are afraid to meet those men, keep your eyes open and dig out when they come back with your father’s horses.” “But suppose that while I am gone Philip should take it into his head to tell them that I had the horse in my possession when they were here before, and wouldn’t give him up?” “If he does that, tell your father that he was the one who let the raiders into the house.” “Now, what earthly good would that do me? Would it get me out of the scrape?” “No; but you would have the satisfaction of knowing that you had repaid Philip by getting him into just as much trouble as he got you into.” “But that isn’t what I want. I want to clear myself, and I don’t know how to do it.”