'Joe!' he shouted joyfully. 'Just see! Here's Buckskin, our old "Buck," as I've told you about!' Everyone looked at the excited boy, and the Sheriff glanced rather suspiciously at him, for, strange to say, the brand on the yellow broncho had puzzled him more than all the others, being quite unknown to him. He called out sharply, 'Say! what does that boy know about that horse? Tell him to come here.' Jack led Buckskin up to where he stood, and said quietly, 'This horse belongs to my dad. Here's his brand, V.C., on his hip, and he has an old scar that was done once when he was shot just afore we got him.' 'Where is it?' asked the Sheriff dubiously. 'Here!' returned Jack promptly, as he lifted Buckskin's mane and showed the place, plain enough, where a bullet had once passed through the neck. 'I could swear to Buckskin anywhere.' 'You're right, my lad,' said the Sheriff, after looking carefully at the scar. 'And who's your dad?' 'George Wilson,' answered Jack. 'He lives on the Cochetopa Creek, and freights up and down the mountains.' 'Does anyone know George Wilson, of Cochetopa Creek?' asked the Sheriff, appealing to the crowd. A man stood forward and said, 'I guess I saw the man you want last week, if he's an Englishman. I didn't know his name, for he's only just moved up to a small ranch about fifteen miles from here. I do believe when I met him as he was drivin' a sorrel broncho, the same colour as that one, but I never noticed the brand.' 'Joe! Joe! d'you hear that?' exclaimed Jack, in his joyful surprise forgetting the Sheriff and everyone else. 'We're close to home after all. Isn't it grand?' The Sheriff looked puzzled at this outburst, until Champion Joe, who was well known to him, came forward and briefly told Jack's story. He also testified to Jack's good character, and finally persuaded the officer to give over the stolen horse into their hands. A proud boy was our hero when, a few hours later, he drove out of Redwood in Joe's buckboard, having Buckskin securely fastened on behind. The weather had decidedly changed since the day before, and the sky looked dark and lowering as they drove along the prairie road. Jack, however, was in high spirits, for he was drawing close to the end of his long journey, and was thinking he would soon see his dear father and mother. 'We'll make your home by evening if we have good luck,' said Joe cheerfully; 'but I'm feared as we're in for a snowstorm, and maybe a blizzard.' Joe was right. As they got a little further on their way, the snow began to fall in heavy flakes, and faster and faster they came down. Worse still! Far away up in the mountains above them they could hear a warning roar that proclaimed the advent of a prairie storm. Joe urged Captain on with all his might.