Part 36 (1/2)

”Piles of money--fine bank bills, I can tell you! Some day Peter will be a millionaire! But Peter must not tell--”

”Say, perhaps this dolt isn't telling the truth,” cried Songbird.

”He seems to be more than a b.u.t.ton short.”

”b.u.t.ton, b.u.t.ton, who's got the b.u.t.ton!” sang out the foolish boy.

”Played that once--lots of fun. Let us play now.” And he started to pull a b.u.t.ton from his jacket.

”Come with us, Peter,” said Tom. ”Come, we won't hurt you.”

”Where do you want Peter to go?”

”Not very far away. Come, we will give you something nice to eat.”

Now, as it happened, eating was one of the dolt's weak points, and he readily consented to accompany them. Without loss of time, they made their way back to where Fred and Hans had been left.

”Hullo! who vos dot?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the German youth as they hove in sight.

”This is a boy we picked up along the stream,” answered Tom, and then drew the others aside and told his story.

”What are you going to do next?” questioned Fred seriously. ”It is certainly too bad Sam and d.i.c.k are prisoners. We must take care that we are not captured.”

”The mystery of the ranch grows deeper,” said Songbird. ”I rather wish we had some officers of the law to consult. We could then ride right up to the ranch and make our demands.”

”It may come to that before we get through,” answered Tom.

”That dolt may not be telling the truth, Tom.”

”Well, he has told some truth anyway, for if Sam and d.i.c.k are free, why don't they show up here?”

They did their best to make Peter Poll tell them more concerning himself and those at the ranch. But the foolish boy was growing more and more suspicious, and would scarcely answer a question.

”Peter wants the fine eating you promised him,” said he, but when they spread before him the best the camp afforded, he broke into a wild laugh of derision.

”Call that good!” he shrieked. ”That is nothing! You ought to see one of the spreads at the ranch--especially when the men from Was.h.i.+ng-ton and Chicago come down. Everything of the best to eat and to drink! This is plain cowboy food. Peter wants something better--roast lamb, peas and pie!”

”This is the best we have, Peter,” said Tom. ”I am sorry you do not care for it. So they have feasts at the ranch, eh?”

”Peter must not tell all he knows.” The foolish boy started up. ”Peter is going.”

”Don't go yet!” cried Tom.

”Peter must go to the other ranch--boss told him so--after he got through fis.h.i.+ng. Going now.” And, with a sudden jerk, he tore himself loose and was off like the wind among the trees.

”Hi!” cried Songbird. ”Hadn't we better stop him?”

Tom was already after the dolt. But the foolish boy seemed to have legs like those of a deer for swiftness, and before they realized it he was out of sight. He knew how to run with but little noise, so it became almost impossible to follow him.

”Will he go back to the ranch, do you think?” asked Fred after the momentary excitement was over.

”He said something about going to the other ranch,” returned Tom.