"Well, we happen to be doing our running after a horse," replied Jed, with a smile. "You didn't happen to see a brown horse with only a bridle on, as you came along, did you?" "Did he have a white spot on the breast?" "Yes," said Will, eagerly. "Then I guess I saw him. I was walking along, a way back, going slow because my corn hurts me, and I see a cloud of dust coming toward me, lickity-split. I thought it was a drove of steers on a stampede at first, and I got out of the way. Then I see it was only one horse. Queer how much dust he did kick up, but then it's terrible dry in these parts. Worse than the Nevada desert in midsummer." "Where did the horse go?" asked Jed, a little impatiently, for he did not care for all those details. "I'm coming to that, my lad. Just after he passed me the horse seemed to think he'd run enough, and he jumped over a fence, into a pasture, and began to eat. Pretty good jump it was, too, after the way he'd been running." "Come on, Will!" cried Jed. "We'll catch him." "Hold on, and I'll help you," exclaimed the man, as he followed the two boys down the road. CHAPTER III THE GOLD MINER "Shall we let him help us?" asked Will, in a low tone, of his brother. "I guess so. I don't see why we shouldn't. He was kind enough to tell us about the horse." "I know; but he seems like a queer character." "Oh, I guess he's all right. He said he was from out West, and the folks there are a little different from those in this part of the country. We'll wait for him." The boys, who had started off at a fast pace, on hearing where their horse was, now slackened their gait, to allow the man to catch up to them. "You seem to be in pretty much of a hurry, boys," remarked the stranger. "Well, it means quite a loss to us if that horse gets away," replied Jed. "We were cultivating corn, my brother and I, and Pete took a notion he wanted a vacation. We're afraid he'll get hurt, or stolen, and we only have one other horse." "Where might you boys live?" "About a mile back," replied Will. "And what might your names be?" Jed told him, wondering the while at the man's rather queer manner. "And what might be the name of the place where you live?" "Well, it might be almost anything," responded Jed, unable to withstand the chance to make a little joke, "but it happens to be Lockport." "Lockport. That's a queer name. If it was out West, where I come from, they'd probably call it 'Dead Man's Gulch,' or 'Red Horseville,' or 'Eagle Pass,' or some such common-sense name as that. But Lockport----" "They call it that because when you're there you're as good as locked up," spoke Jed. "You can't get away from it; that is, if you're poor." "Are you poor?" inquired the man, with a quick look from under his shaggy brows at the two boys. "Well, we don't throw any gold dollars over our left shoulder," replied Jed. "My father is a farmer, and I never knew any rich ones."