“I hope so,” Mr. Manley replied moodily. “But I never knew Teddy to stay away when he said he’d be back unless he couldn’t come. Well, let’s not waste time here. We must find him.” “Want to spread out, boss?” Pop asked. “Better that way, hey?” “Right!” Mr. Manley answered shortly. “Roy, you come with me. Pop, you and Gus ride to the left. Nick can take the right. Roy and I will go straight down.” The men and the boy started on their search. Mr. Manley and Roy took the very same path over which Teddy had traveled, though, of course, they did not know this. “Mighty funny where he could have gone,” Roy remarked. “Jimminy! I hope nothing happened to him. But it sure looks queer!” “Take Nick’s advice,” his father answered. “Teddy may be riding around looking for us.” But Roy stole a quick glance at his father’s face and saw the lines of worry. The ranchman knew what it meant to be lost in these hills with night coming on. Then there was the added danger that Teddy had met the horse-thieves. If one of them was really Billy Froud, Mr. Manley had visions of Teddy riding straight at him and pulling him off Flash. Somehow, Mr. Manley knew that Froud would be riding Flash if, indeed, he was one of the rustlers. The rancher thought of the other two thieves as leveling their guns at Teddy. Drawing his hand across his forehead in a quick gesture, the ranchman forced his horse on. Suddenly Roy gave a cry. He pointed to something ahead. “There’s Teddy’s horse!” he exclaimed. “That’s Teddy’s horse, Dad! But he isn’t on him! Ted must be around here somewhere! Hey-y-y Teddy! Yo-o-o!” Father and son strained their ears for an answer. Silence! Then, echoing among the hills like the single beat of a taut drum, came the sound of a shot. With startled eyes the two looked at each other. CHAPTER XI THE RETURN Teddy Manley’s breath caught in his throat as he stood, his back to the wall, arms outstretched, watching the mountain lion. The only thing moving on that rocky plateau was the animal’s tail. While the lion remained as firm and steady as a statue, its tail lashed back and forth with grim significance. It seemed to Teddy that he could not take his eyes off that waving tip. Then from the lion’s throat came a low growl, like the first mutter of distant thunder, telling of a coming storm. With the sound, Teddy’s brain threw off the shackles of fear. Swift as thought, the boy’s hand flashed down to the gun at his side. The blue barrel came out and up in a draw that would have left old Pop Burns gaping in envious amazement. At the same instant the boy bent low and jumped to one side, holding his gun before him, finger ready on the trigger. But the lion did not spring. Instead, it whirled with the boy, and instantly was again facing him, this time at a greater distance, Teddy having backed away, once he was clear of the wall.