“If I give up here, I must return that money; and how in the world am I to do that?” This thought frightened him, and made him almost desperate. He hastily reviewed the situation, and in two minutes more had made up his mind how to act. “All right, Mr. Barker,” said he, giving back the note which the latter had handed him to read. “If this is your mule it is nothing more than fair that you should have him. Thompson,” he added, turning to his guide, who had stood by, an interested listener to all that had passed between the ranchman and his employer, “what will you take for your pony?” “Wal,” said the latter, suddenly straightening up and winking hard, as if he had just been aroused from a sound sleep, “he aint fur sale, that there hoss aint.” “Mr. Barker,” continued Oscar, “have you an extra pony that you would be willing to dispose of? I haven’t money enough with me to pay for him; but I will give you an order on the colonel, which I assure you will be honored.” “No,” was the disheartening reply. “I have but one, and I can’t spare him. But you don’t need a pony to carry you back to the fort, even if you are a tenderfoot. You can easily walk that distance.” “Who said anything about going back to the fort?” exclaimed Oscar, almost indignantly. “I have not the slightest intention of going back. I shall not allow this expedition to fall through for the want of a little pluck now, I tell you. I’ll walk, since I can’t buy a horse, but it will be toward the foot-hills. I’ll take what I can on my back; and, Thompson, you will have to carry the rest. We’ll not stop here to-night. We can easily make five miles more before it is time to go into camp, and every mile counts now.” “The foot-hills!” exclaimed the ranchman, who was plainly very much surprised. “What are you going there for at this time of year?” “I am going to hunt. I was sent out by the Yarmouth University to procure specimens for its museum,” answered Oscar. “_You_ were?” exclaimed the ranchman. “Yes, _I_ was.” Ike Barker looked toward the guide, who nodded his head in confirmation of Oscar’s statement, whereupon the ranchman backed toward the little mound of earth that had been thrown up when the steps were dug out, and seated himself upon it. “This beats my time all hollow,” said he. “It is the truth, whether it beats you or not,” replied Oscar, who showed that he could be independent if he was in trouble. “I have my credentials in my pocket. I should have been successful in my undertaking if I hadn’t been foolish, or, rather, unfortunate enough to buy this stolen mule. I shall have to leave my chest behind, after all. Mr. Barker, can I hire you to take it back to the fort for me?” “Not by a long shot!” exclaimed the ranchman, suddenly jumping up and seizing Oscar by the arm. “Thompson, you turn your pony loose and unhitch that mule. You come into my den with me, Mr.—Mr.—What’s your name?” “Preston—Oscar Preston. But I don’t want to go into your den.”