At last the clothing of Jack Dudley was dried, and he felt thoroughly comfortable in body. While he was employed in the pleasant task, Hank Hazletine went away in quest of food. It took time and hard work to find it, but his remarkable skill as a hunter enabled him to do so, and when he returned he brought enough venison to serve for the evening and morning meal. No professor of the culinary art could have prepared the meat more excellently than he over the bed of live coals. The odor was so appetizing that the youth was in misery because of his impatience, but the guide would not let him touch a mouthful until the food was done "to the queen's taste." Then they had their feast.
And yet the two were oppressed by thoughts of the absent one. The attempts of his friends during the day to help or to get trace of Fred Greenwood had been brought to naught, and it looked as if they would have to consent to the humiliating terms of Tozer and Motoza, with strong probability that the missing youth was never again to be seen alive.
"I think, Hank," said Jack, when the cowman had lit his pipe, "that we should run no more risks."
"How can we help it?"
"When you meet Tozer to-morrow morning by appointment, tell him the price he asks will be paid, but everything must be square and above board."
The guide looked at his companion a moment in silence. Then he said:
"If you'll turn the matter over in your mind, younker, you'll see that this bus'ness can't be put through without giving the scamps the chance to swindle us the worst sort of way. They won't give up the boy on our promise to pay 'em the money and no questions asked, for they don't b'leve we'll do it; so we've got to give 'em the money and trust to their honor to keep their part. Trust to their honor," repeated Hank, with all the scorn he could throw into voice and manner; "as if they knowed what it means."
"I know from what you have said that Tozer and Motoza are cunning, but——"
In order to receive all the warmth possible, Jack Dudley was sitting within the cavern and facing outward, while his companion faced him, with his back toward the plateau and mountains beyond. Jack suddenly broke off his remark, for in the gloom behind the cowman he saw something move. That something quickly took the form of a white-faced, exhausted youth trudging painfully forward and ready to sink to the ground with weakness.
"Heavens! can it be?" gasped Jack, half-rising to his feet and staring across the camp-fire. The next moment, and while Hazletine was looking in the same direction, as astounded as the youth, the elder made one bound and was at the side of Fred Greenwood, whom he caught in his arms as he sagged downward in a state of utter collapse.
In the course of the following hour everything was made clear. Under the tender ministrations of Jack Dudley and Hank Hazletine the returned wanderer recovered to a great degree his strength, and to the fullest degree his naturally buoyant spirits. The faint odor of the broiling meat which lingered in the air awoke his ravenous appetite, but knowing how long he had been without food, the cowman would not permit him to eat more than a tithe of what he craved. After a time he gave him more, until his appetite was fairly well satisfied.
"Jack," said Fred, with something of his old waggishness, as he looked across the fire into the face of his comrade, "let's go home."
"You forget that we have a month's vacation, and it is hardly half gone. We can stay another week and then be sure of being back to school in time. You lamented more than I because we could not have a longer play-spell. Your sentiments have changed."
The younger lad pointed to his feet.
"There's the reason. If I were like you I shouldn't think of leaving this delightful country until the last day; but I shall need all the vacation to get on my feet again. Do you comprehend?"
"Yes; your demonstration is logical. True, you have lost your rifle and pistol, the same as myself, but we could get others at the ranch, and no doubt meet with plenty more enjoyable adventures, but not as you are. I shall be very willing to start home with you to-morrow morning. What do you think of it, Hank?"
"I'm blamed sorry this bus'ness has to wind up as it does, but there's no help fur it, and we'll leave fur the ranch after breakfast."
"Will you keep your appointment with Tozer?"
"I've been thinking of that; yes, I'll meet him."
There was a peculiar intonation in these words that caused both boys to look into that bearded face, but they could not be sure of his meaning.
It was Fred who spoke:
"Hank, there is one matter as to which I cannot feel certain; I want your opinion of it."
"Wal, I'm listening."
"After Motoza forced me into the cavern at the side of the canyon he went off and has not returned yet, unless he did so after I left. Now, why didn't he go back?"
"Why should he go back? He felt sartin there was no way fur you to git out, and if I'd been told that your only chance was to climb the wall I'd 'greed with him, though you struck the spot where I done it myself."
"He must have known I hadn't a mouthful of food?"
"He couldn't help knowing it."
"The question in my mind is this: what he said to me, as well as what you have told, proves that he understood the whole scheme of my being ransomed. Tozer must have known where I was; he knew that to bring the ransom business to a head would require several days, even with the use of the telegraph; they expected me to stay in the cavern all the time. How long would they have left me there without bringing me anything to eat?"
"They'd never brought you anything."
"Then when the time came to surrender me to my friends I should have been dead."
The cowman nodded his head.
"There ain't no doubt of that."
"And they couldn't have carried out their part of the agreement."
"Which the same they knowed."
"But it seems unreasonable. It would have placed both in peril, from which I cannot see how it was possible for them to escape. If they gave me up after receiving the money they would be safe against punishment. Why, then, should they place themselves in such great danger when they had nothing to gain and all to lose by doing so? That is what I can't understand, and I am sure my brain has become clearer."
It was the same view of the question that had puzzled Jack Dudley, and the two boys listened with interest to the explanation of the veteran.
"Tozer of himself would turn you over sound in limb and body; but, since it was the Sioux who done all the work, as you have showed us, Bill had to make a sort of compromise with the villain, and that compromise was that you should be left with Motoza till the hour come fur you to be produced. That was the price Bill had to pay Motoza fur what he done. It wasn't Tozer, but the Sioux, that was fixing things so as to starve you to death."
The cowman spoke with a deliberation and seriousness that left no doubt he believed every word uttered, and the boys were convinced he was right.
"Bill is as mean as they make 'em," added Hazletine, "but he'd rather grab a pile of money than kill a chap he don't like. It's t'other way with the Sioux. He likes money well 'nough, fur he knows it'll buy firewater, but the sweetest enjoyment he can have is to revenge himself on a person he hates, and from what I've heard he hates you as hard as he knows how."
"There is no doubt of that," said Jack; "I shall never forget the expression of his face when Fred made him give up my rifle."
Fred was thoughtful a moment, and then asked:
"Hank, what do you mean to do about Tozer?"
"Wal, until I larned your story I was fixed to shoot him on sight."
"But what of the agreement you would have to make before he gave me up?"
"I'd kept that the same as the other folks, but it wouldn't be long afore I'd git a chance to pick a quarrel with him over other matters, and then it would be him or me; and," added the cowman, with a grim smile, "I don't think it would be me."
"Do you still hold to that resolve?"
"I can't say that I do. I don't see that Bill meant any hurt except to make some money out of you, and he couldn't help taking chances on that. If he could have had his way he'd turned you over to us as well as when you left; so I think I'll wait to see what his next trick is to be afore I draw a bead on him. I'll take another plan—I'll give him the laugh."
"Give him the laugh!" repeated the wondering Jack Dudley; "what do you mean by that?"
"I'll meet him here to-morrer morning, and, after we've talked a while, let him see you or know how things stand, and then I'll just laugh at him till I drop to the ground and roll over on my back. Won't he feel cheap?"
The conceit was so odd that both boys smiled.
"That certainly is a curious way to punish a man for doing a wrong. It seems to me that, since he had so much to do with abducting Fred, he ought to be arrested, tried, and punished. He should be made to s............