“Sho!” exclaimed the guide, whose face relaxed on the instant. After a little reflection he stepped up and handed back the gun he had taken from the ranchman. This action satisfied Oscar that Big Thompson began to understand the matter, and considered that there was no longer any cause for apprehension. Indeed, Oscar began to understand the matter himself. He was suspected of being a thief; but that did not trouble him, for he knew that he could easily prove his innocence. But, if the mule was a stolen animal, he would have to give him up to his lawful owner and purchase another. The very thought was discouraging. His departure for the foot-hills would be delayed, and it would take two hundred dollars to buy another team. He had already drawn heavily on his reserve fund; and, if there were many more unexpected drafts made upon it, the expedition would have to be abandoned for want of means to make it successful. “Now, young man,” continued the ranchman, “where did you get that mule?” “Wal, if that’s what ye wanted to know, why couldn’t ye have axed the question without pintin’ yer we’pon around so loose an’ reckless?” exclaimed Big Thompson. “I bought him at the fort,” replied the boy. “The major found him at Julesburg, and it was by his advice that I made the purchase. I paid cash for him, and in the presence of two witnesses.” “What sort of a looking fellow was it who sold him to you?” asked the ranchman, who had walked up and taken the mule by the head, as if to show that he intended to hold fast to his property, now that he had found it again. “I thought he was a respectable looking man,” replied Oscar. “He wore a red shirt, coarse trousers and boots——” “I don’t care anything about his trousers and boots,” exclaimed the ranchman impatiently. “How did he look in the face? That’s what I want to know.” Oscar described the man as well as he could; and, when he had finished, Ike Barker, as he had been called, shook his head, and remarked that, although he was acquainted with almost everybody in that part of the country, he did not know any man who answered Oscar’s description. “But there is one thing I do know,” said he, turning to the guide—“that mule and that wagon belong to me. They were stolen early last summer by that miserable Lish, the Wolfer—you know him, Thompson—and when I——What’s the matter with you, young man?” “Nothing,” answered Oscar, with more earnestness than the occasion seemed to require. “Then what did you say ‘Ah!’ for?” asked the ranchman. Oscar hesitated. He did not know what reply to make to this question. The truth was the exclamation that attracted the notice of the ranchman had been called forth by a variety of conflicting emotions.