bear was a well-known character in that section of the country – as well known as Mr. Winters himself. He was called “Old Davy;” and this name had been given to him to distinguish him from a few other old settlers of the same species; but these had been killed off, one after another, and now Old Davy was left alone. Those who had seen him, described him as a monster animal, fully as large as two ordinary bears. He could be recognized by a large bald spot on his forehead, which was, doubtless, the scar of a wound received during some of his numerous battles, and his track could be distinguished from those of other bears by the peculiar shape of the print left by one of his hind feet. A portion of the foot had either been shot away, or lost during a conflict with dogs, and the track made by this wounded member, showed only the claws and the ball of the foot. But this did not interfere with Old Davy’s traveling, or his fighting, either. He could wander over a good portion of the county in a night, and had, more than once, demonstrated his ability to whip all the dogs that could get around him. Between him and the horse-thieves, the farmers had lost many a dollar.
When Old Davy and his exploits had been thoroughly discussed, Mr. Winters told his nephews why he had come in there. He was on the point of starting for San Diego, to be gone three or four days; and he wanted the boys to manage affairs during his absence. “There is not much to be done,” said he, with a laugh, “but if you can manage to shoot Old Davy and catch those horse-thieves while I am gone, I should be delighted.”
The boys told themselves that they had not the slightest intention of going within a mile of Old Davy. If men like Dick Lewis and Bob Kelly, who had hunted grizzly bears all their lives, could not kill him, they certainly had no business with him. And as for the horse-thieves, they were, doubtless, a band of desperadoes, who used their revolvers or bowie-knives upon any one who came in their way, and the boys were quite sure that they would let them alone also. But, after all, they had a good deal to do with the horse-thieves, and with Old Davy also. Some exciting events happened in the settlement during the next few hours, and when Uncle James returned from San Diego, he was more astonished than he was when he listened to Frank’s story of his first encounter with Pierre Costello.
CHAPTER III
A STRANGE STORY
“Now,” said Archie, when he had seen Uncle James ride off toward San Diego, “what’s to be done? It’s dreadful slow hanging around the house all the while, and I propose that we visit that bear trap. We might repair it, you know, and perhaps we can make it strong enough to hold Old Davy the next time he gets into it.”
As no objections were raised to this proposition, the boys strolled slowly toward the stable, where Mr. Winters now kept all his fine riding stock, it being unsafe to allow the animals to run at large. There was no danger that the robbers would get any more horses out of that stable, for Dick Lewis and old Bob Kelly had taken up their quarters there. Archie thought it would have been a good thing for him and Frank, if this precaution had been adopted a few days before.
The stable was full of horses, but Frank and Archie could not find any to suit them. While Johnny and Dick were saddling their nags, the cousins, with their bridles in their hands, walked slowly up and down the floor, critically examining the twenty sleek, well-kept animals which were standing quietly in their respective stalls; but they measured every thing by Roderick and King James now, and none of their uncle’s horses were good enough for them.
“I believe I won’t go, fellows,” said Archie, at length. “I have a good mind to say that I will never leave the rancho again, until I get my horse back. Will you agree to that, Frank, if I will?”
“No, sir!” replied his cousin, quickly. “I can’t see the use of hurting my nose to spite my face. I am going on that expedition with Captain Porter this winter, if I have to ride a mule.”
“Well, it beats me that there is no one here who can catch those robbers,” said Archie, bitterly. “Dick Lewis, I have lost all faith in you.”
The trapper was seated on a bench beside the door, busy at work on a new hunting shirt, which, like all the rest of his garments, was gaudily ornamented with beads and bright-colored pieces of cloth. He smiled good-naturedly at Archie, but made no reply.
“I built my hopes high upon you,” continued the latter. “You have spent your life on the frontier; fought all through the Mexican war; have shot dozens of grizzly bears and Indians; been in numberless scrapes with all sorts of desperate characters, and yet you allow Old Davy to invade the rancho every night, and walk off with some of uncle’s best stock, and permit a band of horse-thieves to settle down here in our very midst, and carry on their trade without a word of protest. What do you mean by it?”
“We have done all we could, little ’un – me an’ old Bob have,” replied the trapper. “But don’t you know that thar are things movin’ around us all the while, that no livin’ man can’t foller, ’cause they don’t leave no trail?”
“Of course there are,” said Johnny. “Birds, for instance.”
“But the birds didn’t steal my horse,” exclaimed Archie.
“I aint sayin’ they did,” returned Dick. “I know well enough that your hosses were stole by men, ’cause I seed the prints of their feet in front of this yere very door. I know which way they went, too, fur me an’ old Bob tracked em.”
“You did?” cried Frank. “Then why didn’t you follow them up, and catch them?”
“’Cause we couldn’t; that’s the reason. It’s a leetle the queerest thing I ever hearn tell on.”
“What is?” asked all the boys in a breath. They began to get interested and excited now, for the trapper’s mysterious manner indicated that he had some great secret to communicate.
“I haint sartin that I had oughter say any thing about it,” replied Dick. “It’s something I can’t begin to see through, an’ that’s the reason I haint told your uncle of it. You ’member when Mr. Winters lost them two hosses of his’n, don’t you? Wal, the next mornin’ me an’ ole Bob tracked ’em nigh onto five miles, an’ finally lost their trail about a hundred yards from the creek that flows on this side of Don Carlos’ rancho. Thar war the prints of their hoofs in the soft ’arth, as plain as bar’s ears, an’ thar the trail ended. Now, where did them two hosses go to? That’s what I want to know.”
“Perhaps they turned up or down the creek to find a ford,” said Frank.
“They couldn’t have done that without leavin’ a trail, could they? It was a good hundred yards to the creek, as I told you, an’ me an’ Bob sarched every inch of the ground, but couldn’t find the print of a single hoof.”
“The robbers may have doubled on their trail, for the purpose of throwing you off the scent,” suggested Johnny.
“I don’t reckon that men who have hunted wild Injuns an’ varmints as long as me an’ Bob have, could be fooled by sich a trick as that ar’,” replied the trapper. “I have since found out all about it, youngsters. Them hosses didn’t make no more trail; that’s the reason we couldn’t foller ’em.”
“Then, of course, they didn’t go any farther,” said Dick Thomas.
“Yes, they did. They went acrost that creek, an’ into Don Carlos’ rancho, an’ never touched the ground, nor the water either.”
“Into Don Carlos’ rancho!” repeated Archie in great astonishment.
“And never touched the ground!” echoed Johnny. “Were they carried over?”
“Sartinly
