They Return to the Ranch of Roaring Bull, where Something Serious Happens to Dick Darvall.  
When Dick Darvall and Hunky Ben returned from the expedition which we have just described, they found all right at the cave, except that a letter to Leather had been sent up from Bull’s ranch which had caused him much grief and anxiety.
 
“I have been eagerly awaiting your return, Ben,” said Charlie Brooke, when he and the scout went outside the cave to talk the matter over, “for the news in this letter has thrown poor Leather back considerably, and, as he will continue to fret about it and get worse, something must be done.”
 
He paused for a few moments, and the scout gravely waited for him to resume.
 
“The fact is,” continued Charlie, “that poor Leather’s father has been given far too much to the bottle during a great part of his life, and the letter just received tells us that he has suddenly left home and gone no one knows where. Now, my friend Leather and his father were always very fond of each other, and the son cannot forgive himself for having at various times rather encouraged his father in drinking, so that his conscience is reproaching him terribly, as you may well believe, and he insists on it that he is now quite able to undertake the voyage home. You and I know, Ben, that in his present state it would be madness for him to attempt it; yet to lie and fret here would be almost as bad. Now, what is your advice?”
 
For some moments the scout stood silent with his eyes on the ground and his right hand grasping his chin—his usual attitude when engaged in meditation.
 
“Is there enough o’ dollars,” he asked, “to let you do as ye like?”
 
“No lack of dollars, I dare say, when needed,” replied Charlie.
 
“Then my advice,” returned the scout promptly, “is to take Leather straight off to-morrow mornin’ to Bull’s ranch; make him comfortable there, call him Mister Shank,—so as nobody’ll think he’s been the man called Leather, who’s bin so long ill along wi’ poor Buck Tom’s gang,—and then you go off to old England to follow his father’s trail till you find him. Leather has great belief in you, sir, and the feelin’ that you are away doin’ your best for him will do more to relieve his mind and strengthen his body than tons o’ doctor’s stuff. Dick Darvall could remain to take care of him if he has no objection.”
 
“I rather think he would be well pleased to do so,” replied Charlie, with a laugh of significance, which the scout quietly subjected to analysis in what he styled his brain-pan, and made a note of the result in his mental memorandum book!
 
“But I doubt if Leather—”
 
“Shank,” interrupted the scout. “Call him Shank from now, so’s we may all git used to it; tho’ p’r’aps it ain’t o’ much importance, for most o’ the men that saw him here saw him in uncommon bad condition an’ would hardly know him again, besides, they won’t likely be at Bull’s ranch, an’ the captain an’ troops that were here have been ordered down south. Still one can never be too careful when life and death may be i’ the balance. Your friend niver was one o’ the outlaws, but it mightn’t be easy to prove that.”
 
“Well, then,” resumed our hero, “I was going to say that I fear Shank won’t be able to stand the journey even to the ranch.”
 
“No fear of that, sir. We’ll carry him down to the foot o’ the Trap, an’ when we git out on the plain mount him on one o’ the horses left by poor Buck—the one that goes along so quiet that they’ve given it the name o’ the Wheelbarrow.”
 
“Should I speak to him to-night about our plan, Ben?”
 
“No. If I was you I’d only say we’re goin’ to take him down to Bull’s ranch i’ the mornin’. That’ll take his mind a bit off the letter, an’ then it’ll give him an extra lift when you tell him the rest o’ the plan.”
 
In accordance with this arrangement, on the following morning a litter was made with two stout poles and a blanket between. On this the invalid was laid after an early breakfast; another blanket was spread over him, and the scout and Dick, taking it up between them, carried him out of Traitor’s Trap, while Charlie Brooke, riding Jackson’s horse, led the Wheelbarrow by the bridle. As for Black Polly, she was left to follow at her own convenience, a whistle from Hunky Ben being at any moment sufficient to bring her promptly to her master’s side.
 
On reaching the plain the litter was laid aside, the blankets were fastened to the horses, and Shank prepared, as Dick said, to board Wheelbarrow.
 
“Now then, Shank,” said the seaman, while helping his friend, “don’t be in a hurry. Nothin’ was ever done well in a hurry either afloat or ashore. Git your futt well into the stirrup an’ don’t take too much of a spring, else you’ll be apt to go right over on the starboard side. Hup you go!”
 
The worthy sailor lent such willing aid that there is little doubt he would have precipitated the catastrophe against which he warned, had not Hunky Ben placed himself on the “starboard side” of the steed and counteracted the heave. After that all went well; the amble of the Wheelbarrow fully justified the title, and in due course the party arrived at the ranch of Roaring Bull, where the poor invalid was confined to his room for a considerable time thereafter, and became known at the ranch as Mr Shank.
 
One evening Charlie Brooke entered the kitchen of the ranch in search of his friend Dick Darvall, who had a strange fondness for Buttercup, and frequently held converse with her in the regions of the back-kitchen.
 
“I dun know whar he is, massa Book,” answered the sable beauty when appealed to, “he’s mostly somewhar around when he’s not nowhar else.”
 
“I shouldn’t wonder if he was,” returned Charlie with a hopeful smile. “I suppose Miss Mary’s not around anywhere, is she?”
 
“I shouldn’t wonder if she wasn’t; but she ain’t here, massa,” said the black maid earnestly.
 
“You are a truthful girl, Butter—stick to that, and you’ll get on in life.”
 
With this piece of advice Charlie left the kitchen abruptly, and thereby missed the eruption of teeth and gums that immediately followed his remark.
 
Making his way to the chamber of his sick friend, Charlie sat down at the open window beside him.
 
“How d’you feel this evening, my boy?” he asked.
 
“A little better, but—oh dear me!—I begin to despair of getting well enough to go home, and it’s impossible to avoid being worried, for, unless father is sought for and found soon he, will probably sink altogether. You have no idea, Charlie, what a fearful temptation drink becomes to those who have once given way to it and passed a certain point.”
 
“I don’t know it personally—though I take no credit for that—but I have some idea of it, I think, from what I have seen and heard. But I came to relieve your mind on the subject, Shank. I wanted to speak with Dick Darvall first to see if he would fall in with my plan, but as I can’t find him just now I thought it best to come straight to you about it. Hallo!............