Part 21 (1/2)
Before moving to the house Chet had driven the horses into the barn and locked the door, so now the animals were safe, at least for the time being.
It was found that Jeff Jones had received an ugly wound in the shoulder.
This Paul set to work to dress, taking good care, however, that the prisoner should be allowed no chance of escape.
”Wot is yo' gwine to do wid me?” asked Jeff Jones as the work progressed. ”Ain't gwine ter tote me ter town, is yo'?”
”That depends upon what Mr. Dottery says,” replied Chet. ”He's the boss of this ranch.”
”Better let me go,” urged the colored man. ”If yo' don't dar will be big trouble ahead.”
”Don't imagine we are to be scared so easily,” returned Chet, smartly.
”We have a bigger rascal to deal with even than you,” he added.
”Yo' mean Saul Mangle?”
”No, I mean Captain Hank Grady,” replied the boy, without stopping to think.
”Captain Hank Grady! Wot yo' know ob him?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jeff Jones. ”Did yo' know about him and yo' Uncle Barnaby----” the colored man broke off short.
”My Uncle Barnaby!” exclaimed Chet. ”What made you think of him in connection with Captain Grady?”
”Oh, I know a lot about him an' de captain,” said Jeff Jones suggestively. ”A heap dat maybe yo' boys would gib a lot ter know about.”
CHAPTER XVII.
Something about a Letter
Allen Winthrop knew full well that he had a long journey before him and one that would, perhaps, be full of peril, yet his heart did not fail him as he and Noel Urner rode away, bound first for Dottery's ranch, and then for the railroad station, over a hundred miles away.
”You must keep up a stout heart, Allen,” said the young man from the east. ”Perhaps all is well with your uncle in spite of appearances.”
”I am not daunted by what lies ahead,” said the young ranchman. ”But I am convinced that Uncle Barnaby has been led into some great trouble.
Were it otherwise we would surely have heard from him ere this.”
At Dottery's they put up over night, and set off at sunrise in the morning; Allen riding the animal from the ranch and Noel using a large and powerful beast hired to him by Dottery.
”Thirty-five miles to-day,” observed Allen, as they pushed on along a somewhat hilly trail, lined on either side by cactus and other low plants.
”Is that the distance to Daddy Wampole's hotel, as you call it?”
”Yes--by the roads. The direct route would not make it over thirty miles, but we can't fly as the birds do.”
”We ought to make thirty-five miles easily enough.”
”We could on a level. But you must remember we have several hills to climb and half a dozen water courses to ford. I imagine, too, you will get tired of the saddle before nightfall.”
”Oh, I can stand it,” laughed Noel Urner, ”thanks to my experience in the riding schools in New York and my frequent exercises in Central Park.”