d in the bunch, insisted on carrying the
pelt with him on their return trip to the ranch.

Ten miles, as the crow flies, and they would be at home; and with
comparatively fresh steeds, that should not count for more than an
hour's gallop.

Before they had gone three miles, however, Bob called the attention of
his chum to a horseman who was galloping toward them. It was a cowboy,
and he waved his broad-brimmed hat over his head as he came sweeping
forward.

"Is he doing stunts; or does he want us?" asked Bob.

"It's Ted Conway," replied Frank, with a sudden look of anxiety; "one of
the steadiest boys at the ranch; and he acts as if something had
happened at home!"

CHAPTER III

THE FLOATING BOTTLE

Waving his hat after the extravagant manner of his kind, the cowboy
swept constantly nearer the little party. Indeed, it was impossible for
them to guess whether Ted Conway bore a message, or was simply delighted
to see the son of his employer, and his chum.

Presently he reached the constantly advancing trio, and under the pull
of the reins his pony reared upon its hind legs.

"What's wrong, Ted?" asked Frank, immediately.

"Wanted at the ranch, Frank," came the answer. "The boss has sent me out
to look you up on the jump. Told me as how you started out on a gallop
this way, an' I took chances. Reckon I was some lucky to strike you so
easy."

"But what has happened, Ted?" insisted the boy, trying to read the
bronzed face of the other, and get a hint as to whether his mission
verged on the serious or not.

It was so very unusual for Colonel Haywood to send anyone out to find
him, that Frank's suspicions were naturally aroused.

"Well, the Colonel had a little tumble with that game leg of his--same
one that the steer fell on, and broke two years back, in the big
round-up--" began the cowboy, when Frank interrupted him.

"Then he must have been seriously hurt this time, or he wouldn't send
you out for me. Tell me the worst, Ted; you ought to realize that it's
better for me to know it all in the start, than by degrees. Is my father
dead?"

"No. Last I seen of the Colonel, he was a real live man; only he had his
leg done up agin in splints; an' the ole doc. from the Arrowhead Ranch
was thar, 'tending to him. No, it ain't on count of his leetle trouble
with that leg that made him send me out huntin' for you, Frank."

"What then?" demanded the boy, curtly; but with a sigh of relief, for
his father was v