Teddy obeyed, and the merry-go-round on which the trees were riding came gradually to a stop. The boy got to his feet again, and this time he stayed there. “Where’s my friend?” he asked, looking about. “Ah, there she is. A beauty, hey, Dad?” he touched the dead mountain lion with his foot. “Look at that hide! Say, do you think we can get her up out of here and cart her along home?” “Don’t see why not,” his father answered. “Golly, boy, do you know you went for this lion with your bare hands? Went right at her!” “Did I?” Teddy said indifferently. He kicked the carcass again. “Must have been a little crazy, I guess. I didn’t know what it was all about for a while.” He walked over toward the spring. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation. “Well, for the love of Pete! Dad! Take a look at this! No wonder the old lady wanted to fight. Can you beat this?” Mr. Manley hurried to his son’s side and bent over. In a scooped-out hollow of the wall, partly screened by bushes, he saw two little, yellow kittens. “Baby lions!” the ranch owner cried. “Say, Teddy, we’ve got to save ’em! We shot their mother, and now it’s up to us to help the babies make a start in the world. We can--” “Hey-y-y, Dad!” came from above. “Here are Pop and Gus and Nick! Want me to come down?” “No! You boys get ready to haul up!” Mr. Manley answered. “Teddy,” he added, in a lower voice, “I want you to let them pull you up. Oh, yes, I know you can climb it,” he said, interrupting his son’s protest. “But, just for fun, let ’em pull you. They need the exercise.” He fastened the rope below Teddy’s armpits and yelled to those above to hoist away. Up Teddy went. In a moment he was safe upon the ledge. Then came Mr. Manley’s turn; and with two, tawny, squirming kittens held against his chest he made the ascent as Teddy had done. The last rays of the sun were sending a shower of gold over the mountains as Roy’s hand clasped Teddy’s in a firm grip, that told, louder than any words, what was in the heart of each. The two boys were together again. Teddy had been saved from what had seemed certain death. It was too late to look further for the horse thieves, and Mr. Manley gave the word to start for home. Evening was upon them, and as the two brothers rode along through the gathering dusk, side by side, talking in low tones, each had a small, warm kitten cuddled on his saddle. CHAPTER XII VISITORS “Nick, why’n thunder don’t you give that mouth-organ of yourn to Sing Lung an’ let him make soup out of it?” Gus Tripp drawled. The cowboys, Roy and Teddy among them, were sprawled in lazy attitudes just outside the bunk-house. Several days had passed since they had ridden after the horse thieves--days of fruitless searching for the lost animals. Nick finished the last, plaintive strains of “Home, Sweet, Home,” and removed the instrument from his lips. Noon mess had just been concluded, and the men were resting a few moments before resuming the work of the ranch.