On learning that he was one of Ranger’s men, and that Ranger could probably be found at Wolseley, having intended to stay the night there, he at once decided to send on a wire in the hope of intercepting him there and getting him to take Indian Head as his route home in order to pick up Barton. In the course of the morning a reply came to say he would be there; and late in the afternoon Ranger drove up, not a little surprised at discovering who it was that was awaiting him, as well as the condition he was in. Having had the injured man transferred to his own conveyance, he mounted and drove off. On reaching home, he found an uneasy feeling had been spreading at the prolonged absence of Barton, especially when it got reported that a horse, saddled and bridled, had been found grazing, which it was believed must have been the one Barton had started out upon the evening before, and which had apparently returned riderless; but where his rider had been left, no one had any means of telling, since it did not appear to be known in which direction he had gone. The farmer’s return with the missing man at once put an end to all doubts, and, with as little delay as possible, he was conveyed to his own shanty, where both his sprained ankle and damaged knee received the attention needed, so that he was soon able to resume his usual duties on the farm. When Barton explained to Ranger the object of his journey, which he did as they drove home, it was one of such common occurrence that it left no impression upon his mind as to there being anything peculiar in it. *CHAPTER XIX.* *HESITATING.* "... At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies." _The Tempest_, Act IV. sc. i. When, in due course, Barton’s letter reached Broadstone, the astonishment and surprise it gave rise to was beyond all description. The excitement it created in the breasts of the partners was intense. Old memories were aroused with regard to incidents long since regarded as for ever buried. The circumstances under which they were now revived seemed to possess more the character of fiction than fact. Yet the details given, and the circumstantial nature of the narration, seemed to preclude all possibility of doubt. What ought to be the action of the firm in the matter now? This was the problem which faced them, demanding a decision,—but a decision which they found themselves unable to agree upon. It was therefore wisely resolved to leave the matter where it was at present, and to return to the subject later on, after each had been able to think out what was the best course to pursue.