“Now,” continued the ranchman, after Oscar had finished reading the note, and his words found an echo in the heart of the young taxidermist, who backed up against the wagon-wheel and gazed fixedly at the paper he held in his hand, “there’s something that isn’t exactly square about this business. The language made use of in that communication is as correct as any I could use myself, and I have had some schooling; in fact, I spent four years in William and Mary College. I am acquainted with Lish, the Wolfer—that is, I know as much about him as any white man does, for he used to herd for me—and if I had a sheep on my ranch as ignorant as he is I’d make mutton of him at once. Lish never wrote that note. He has somehow managed to pick up a partner who knows a thing or two, and he is the one who did the writing.” Oscar knew that very well. He recognized the bold, free hand as soon as he put his eyes upon the note. It was his brother’s. “I wouldn’t be willin’ to give much fur that feller’s ketch,” remarked Big Thompson. “Lish is mighty keerless when it comes to the dividin’.” “I thought at first it was a trick of some kind,” continued the ranchman, whose tone seemed to grow kindlier the longer he talked to the now discouraged young hunter; “but when I saw the mule I knew it wasn’t. I am sorry I dropped on you so suddenly, for I really believe you bought the mule.” “Indeed I did, sir,” answered Oscar, trying to choke down a big lump that seemed to be rising in his throat. “As I told you, I paid the money for him in the presence of witnesses.” “Have you done anything to make an enemy of Lish?” “I never exchanged a word with him.” “Nor his partner, either?” “I have never injured his partner in any way.” “Well, I can’t understand the matter at all,” said the ranchman. “Lish had some object in sending me that note, but what it was I don’t know. But I _do_ know that the mule is mine, and that I must have him if I have to fight for him.” These words were uttered in a quiet but decided tone, and Oscar knew that the ranchman meant all he said. CHAPTER XX. INSIDE THE DUG-OUT. Poor Oscar! This was a most unexpected and disastrous ending to the expedition upon which he had set out with such high hopes. What would his mother do now? What would be the verdict of the committee, who seemed to have so exalted an opinion of his abilities, and whose confidence in him had led them to place in his hands a thousand dollars of the university’s money? It is true that he still had funds at his command, but he had use for them. If another mule must be purchased, where was he going to obtain the money to pay his guide? It was a bad case, altogether, and almost any boy would have been utterly discouraged. Oscar certainly was, and he was on the very point of abandoning the whole thing in despair, when something prompted him to say to himself: