"Yes, he had five dollars of his own, and I gave him five more for his saddle, which he said he would leave at Brown's, and then if he lets me know his address, I will send him fifteen more by mail. Besides that, he left his horse here, and it's a better one than the gray I gave him to ride on. If he gets off on the railroad he's to leave the horse at Brown's, or turn it loose on the range. Of course, ten dollars will carry him some distance, but will leave him afoot wherever he stops. Still, that's a whole lot better than being hanged." "Well," decided Powell, "I guess you did just right; and I'm glad it all happened as it did. It's a mighty lucky thing for the women and me that you rode up here just as you did. I shouldn't have been afraid of anything more happening to them, but it would have been pretty bad for them to have to get rid of that carcass. Well, let's go to bed." He stretched out his hand and gave Jack a grip that made the boy wince, and they went to their rooms. Early the next morning Jack and Powell looked over the horses left there by the strangers the day before. The men had been well mounted, and the saddle and bridle belonging to Davis were new, good and strong. The pack horse was also a good animal, and looked as if it might have speed and endurance. "Nice horses, aren't they, Mr. Powell?" said Jack. "But I don't know who owns them now." "Yes," answered Powell; "they are nice horses. You'll find, if you live long enough in this country--maybe you've found it out already--that these rustlers and bad men always do have good horses. They've always got to be ready to skip off when any one gets after them, and they always try to be fixed so as to ride a little faster and a little farther than the man who is chasing them. So they always have good horses and good saddles. As to who owns these horses now, you and I can't say, but I guess nobody has a better title to them than we two, so we'll just hold them until somebody comes along and claims them and proves property. I don't know the brands of any of them. That one on the brown horse might be old Missouri John's "beer mug," blotted. If it is, he'll be along some day and likely know the horse. Now I've got to get Bessie to write some letters for me this morning, and then I want to get some grub and put it on a horse, and after dinner we can start back to the round-up camp and get there before dark. Will that suit you?" "Yes," replied Jack, "that will suit me to a T; and I am certainly glad to wait for you, to have company on the road over." "Well," said Powell, "that will be good; then we can turn my pack horse loose and drive him with your _remuda_, and we can get along pretty fast." As he said this, a call from the house told them that breakfast was ready, and they started back. "By the way," asked Powell, as they were approaching the house, "what about those guns that you took away from the men yesterday?"