As the automobile careened along the dusty road, a strained silence settled over the occupants. The only sounds were the muffled exhaust of the motor and the squeaking and groaning of the springs as the car bounced its way toward the X Bar X. Bug Eye and Roy were in the front seat and Mr. Manley and the two girls were seated in the rear. Teddy was supporting himself upon a rear door of the touring car, clenching the sides to hold his place against the joltings of the flivver, and bent almost double to avoid hitting the roof whenever Bug Eye dived into a particularly deep rut. Thoughts of the loss of the ponies were uppermost in the minds of all. Bug Eye, used to Western ways, did not press Mr. Manley as to his plan of action. He knew the cattle owner would prefer to keep whatever opinions he had until he reached the X Bar X and could get his men together. Bug Eye, belonging to another outfit, could have no concern in the matter until Mr. Manley asked for his help, at which time the cowboy would lend willing aid. Such is the code of the West. Ethel, wedged in between Nell and Mr. Manley, stole a glance at Teddy as the boy braced himself upon the edge of the car door, his shoulders hunched, his body swaying with the motion of the machine, his eyes staring moodily out at the dust-covered bushes at the side of the road. She noticed how hard and brown was the hand that clenched the top of the door. The mouth, widened into a happy grin when she had first seen it, was now drooped at the corners. The bronzed forehead, below the sombrero, was drawn into a frown. Ethel nudged Nell with her elbow. “Doesn’t it seem quiet out here, after the city?” she murmured, with another glance at Teddy. The boy looked at her quickly. “You mean us, I guess,” he said, grinning slightly. “We haven’t been very polite, have we? But, you see, it kind of hurts to lose a pony you’ve had for so long. I--” “Of course, I know just how you feel!” Ethel burst out impulsively. “It’s a shame! You just go after those--those rustlers, and get your horses back!” “We will,” Teddy answered grimly. “At least, we’ll do our best. But there’s no use crying over spilt milk.” “That’s the way I feel about it, son,” Mr. Manley said quietly. “We’ll do all we can to get the broncs back! When we’re ready, I want you and Roy to come along with me. As soon as we reach home we’ll get other ponies and be on our way.” He pulled the ends of his mustache and settled down once more into silence. Teddy knew this mood of his father. He had seen it twice before, once, years ago, when a puncher had knocked Roy down, and once when a cowboy, with a misshapen idea of humor, had coaxed Teddy upon the back of the worst horse on the ranch, a real “man-eater.” On each of these occasions certain things had happened which directly affected the person in error. When the car reached Bitter Cliff lookout, Bug Eye slowed down and stopped for a moment.