“Jimmy Raymond!” gasped Tom. “What do you mean?”

“Business, Jimmy!” came the terse answer. “Our fellows have been a-lookin’ fer ye; so has the Texas Rangers, to say nothin’ o’ Jake Raigan the sheriff—but what made ye come? Was it our Mexican pard yonder; or did ye git tired of the lonesome trail?”

“Sure enough it’s Jimmy!” broke in one of the others. “Jist as the colonel says. One o’ the longest boys in all creation. Wal, Blimby, I call this here a fine piece o’ luck.”

“Yessir, an’ that’s truer’n many things ye say, Dan,” grinned a third. He was studying Tom with critical attention. “Yessir, that’s him all right. ‘Kind o’ big mouth,’ says the colonel, an’ ‘cheeky lookin’’—ha, ha, ha, ho. There ain’t a-goin’ to be no get-away for Jimmy Raymond this time.—No siree.”

The men laughed and chuckled in a manner which showed them to be in a most highly pleased state of mind, while Tom, his eyes flashing, looked from them to the complacent, smiling Mexican and back again.

The man’s mysterious ways were all perfectly clear to him now. He, falling into the same error as the cowboys, had taken him to be the young pianist of the Mexican theater. And Tom was forced to admit that the mistake was a natural one, for a description of Jimmy would certainly tally in many respects with his own.

The humor of the situation appealing to him irresistibly he began to roar with laughter, a proceeding which had the effect of promptly sobering the expressions on the cowboys’ faces. They had evidently expected Tom to accept the matter in a very different way, for Blimby broke forth into a string of wondering comments.

“He’s a slick one—ain’t he, boys? Thinks he can fool us, eh? Not much; this outfit’s just as sharp as the Texas Rangers any day. ‘A hard one to manage,’ says the colonel. ‘Not if we ever git our flippers on him,’ says I. So them stage laughs won’t do ye no good, pard—it’s the ‘Eagle Pass’ Ranch for you!”

“The ‘Eagle Pass’ Ranch,” repeated Tom.

“I reckon he never even heard o’ the Eagle Pass!” put in Dan, in a tone which suggested a mixture of scorn and amusement. “Come now, young fellow!” He advanced and shaking his finger under Tom’s nose added almost threateningly, “Own up now! quick! Did ye ever hear of Colonel Brookes Sylvester?”

“Certainly!” answered Tom, his eyes opening wider.

“Wal, that’s a little better. I’ve got good news for ye, Jimmy. The colonel says as how ye can do jist as ye please. Ain’t that fine, boy?” He playfully poked Tom in the ribs. “Ain’t it now?”

“Say! Why is everybody camping on the trail of Jimmy Raymond?” blurted out Tom. “What in thunder has he done? Is this Colonel Brookes Sylvester a relative of his?”

The speech was received in absolute silence, but it lasted only until the man had recovered from a genuine case of astonishment.

“Wal! I certainly never heard anything to beat that!” roared Dan, violently. “Take his hoss, Blimby. He’s even a heap sight worse’n the colonel let on!”

“His nerve is simply amazing!” growled the big cowboy.

“Now just look here!” protested Tom. “This way we’re not getting anywhere at all!”

“Jist the same you’ll be a-gettin’ somewhere mighty soon!” chuckled one of the others. He called to the Mexican, who, having dismounted, was surveying the scene from a little distance with a highly puzzled expression. As the man came forward, a few words spoken in the Spanish language brought a look of understanding to his face. The benevolent expression was immediately replaced by a stern, hard glare, which he leveled full on the Rambler’s face.

Two of Tom Clifton’s faults in the past had been a lack of diplomacy, which, coupled with a highly sensitive disposition, often made his words and actions misunderstood. Many lessons dearly bought, however, had at last brought about a change. And now Tom, instead of flying into a temper, accepted his unusual situation in a philosophical manner.

“I’ll tell you this much,” he said calmly. “My name is Tom Clifton. But I know where Jimmy Raymond is.”

“So do we,” said Blimby. “Say, ain’t that a book in your pocket?” He looked with a significant expression toward his companions. “Jist let’s take a peep at it, son!”

And thus it was that the little volume on cowboy life which Jimmy had presented to the Rambler began to take a part in the proceedings. Tom, realizing that this bit of circumstantial evidence would absolutely prove to the minds of the men the truth of their contentions, attempted to parry Blimby’s questions.

The cowboy, however, grimly shook his head.

“No use, lad! The colonel told us somethin’ about them books ye read. Trot it out.”

“Yes, sir, you’ve got to!” came from another.

“Skeered, eh?” jeered Dan. “Come now——” His lean brown hand was thrust toward the pocket of Tom’s khaki jacket, but the agile lad easily side-stepped out of reach.

“Oh, yes, I know’d it!” grinned Blimby. “Now he’s caught with the goods! Hand it over.”

“Call around to-morrow!” grinned Tom. “You don’t have to see it!”

“Yes, sir, we do!” The man who made this speech came briskly forward, and Tom found himself facing three smiling though determined-looking cowboys, while several others looked on.

“Really this is quite provoking!” said Tom.

“Sure; mirth provokin’,” remarked Blimby. “Oh, good for you, Dan!”

Dan, by a rapid movement, had snatched the book from its reposing place and was examining, with keen interest, the wonderfully rearing horse on the cover.

“See here, you’re going too far!” shouted Tom, indignantly.

“No, jist far enough,” grinned Dan. He held the book up at arm’s length.

A storm of laughter came from the men.

“I know’d it, I know’d it!” roared Blimby. “Exactly what Colonel Sylvester said. Daffy on the cowboy game. Ha, ha, ho, ho! An’ here’s his name writ on the inside. Boys, mebbe the colonel won’t give us the glad hand when we take this prize over to the ranch.”

“Well, if that’s all you want, let’s go right away,” said Tom.

No violent outburst of anger or protest could have made half the impression on the cow-punchers as did these words. The loud hilarity instantly came to an end. Blimby was dreadfully puzzled; his face showed it.

“That’s the cleverest bit yit,” he exclaimed. “But it won’t work no better’n than the others. Now, pard, jist one question: where was ye bound when the greaser copped ye?”

“Over to detachment quarters of the Texas Rangers!” answered Tom smilingly. “Our crowd is staying there. Shall I tell you——?”

“No, nuthin’ more!” fairly yelled Blimby. “This is sure the worst case I ever run up ag’in. Climb aboard yer prairie schooner, feller. Mebbe ye’ll know now that the jig’s all up!”

“Well, it strikes me that since seeing Bob Somers last I’ve had a pretty large time,” murmured Tom, with a grin. “I intended to take a jaunt over to Colonel Sylvester’s ranch anyway.” Then aloud he added, “You chaps are going to be mighty badly disappointed—too bad! I’ll take my book, please!”

“He ain’t himself; but it’s his book,” jeered Dan, putting the volume into his hand. “Who’s goin’ to take him over?”

“I am,” exclaimed Blimby, in his loud gruff voice. He untied his horse and mounted, motioning Tom to get on his own. Tom obeyed. Then, with a nod to the gray-bearded Mexican, and a hearty “So-long, fellows,” to the group of cow-punchers, he rode off by the side of Blimby.

Blimby he found was a very pleasant chap. He declined to answer any of his eager questions concerning Jimmy Raymond with this terse observation: “You can’t kid me, boy.” About the venerable looking Mexican, however, he was more communicative.

“A nice old chap,” he said, an odd look coming over his face. “He ain’t been around these parts very long. Every onct in a while one o’ the bunch has run across him; but the fellers who can parlez his tongue a bit says he won’t ever do no talkin’ about himself.”

“Well, what is he doing in Texas?” demanded Tom.

“He don’t seem to be doin’ nothin’ ’cept ridin’ his hoss about, an’ mostly over there by the Rio,” responded the cowboy. “Yes, he’s acting kind o’ queer, for a fact, but there ain’t no law ag’in it. Who told him to watch out for Jimmy Raymond? Why, every cow-puncher who could git it over in Spanish. But don’t rile me, son, a-talkin’ about Jimmy.”

Several hours after leaving the cowboys’ camp the two rode past the town-site of Sylvester, a short time later sighting the ranch buildings belonging to the colonel.

Everything about the appearance of the spacious adobe house, and the barns, sheds and fenced corrals surrounding it, was in accordance with the reputation and wealth of their owner.

As the cow-puncher and Tom rode up, a tall, soldierly looking man, seated on the wide veranda which extended around the entire house, hastily rose to his feet. His first glance brought a peculiar light into his stern, gray eyes. He stepped forward eagerly, then with a nearer view of the approaching riders, the light began to fade.

“I say, Colonel, ain’t this him?” cried Blimby, hopefully.

The answer proved to be a bitter disappointment to the cowboy.

“No, Blimby!” responded Colonel Sylvester. “Though he is just about the same size and figure. But ’pon my word I must hear all about this at once! Tie your horses, boys, and come right up! This is most astonishing. Never was more surprised in my life!”

Tom was enjoying the situation immensely, though he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the disconcerted Blimby, who presently sank dejectedly into a chair on the veranda.

Facing the colonel, Tom Clifton, in his easy, offhand style, began to answer his questions. He spoke rapidly, for he realized that by this time Bob Somers and the others must be considerably worried about him, and he wanted to be on his way as soon as possible.

His words: “I met Jimmy Raymond in Mexico,” brought Colonel Brookes Sylvester to his feet. The ranchman appeared to be as excited as a man of his stern, forceful nature could ever be. With one hand resting on the arm of his chair and the other on Tom Clifton’s shoulder, he urged him to tell all he knew about the young pianist.

Tom did so at a commendable rate of speed. The colonel listened with the most eager attention; the light had come into his eyes once more, though there was a troubled note in his voice when he said:

“Jimmy in that land of anarchy and disorder! I don’t like to think about it!” Then sinking back in his chair, he remained silent for a moment, unheeding Tom’s question, put with the lad’s characteristic bluntness: “Who is Jimmy Raymond, Colonel Sylvester?”

“The colonel’s nephew!” said Blimby, answering for him.

A sudden recollection of hearing some of the Texas Rangers speak about a lad, who was occasioning Colonel Sylvester considerable trouble and worry, sprang into Tom Clifton’s mind. Jimmy must be that lad, he decided.

“The facts regarding Jimmy, who is my sister’s son, are these,” said the ranchman when he resumed speaking. “The boy, whose home is at Brownsville, had an intense longing to be a cowboy, and also the wanderlust had seized him. Receiving no encouragement in either of these ideas he considered himself very badly used indeed.”

“A cowboy’s life ain’t nothin’ to hanker after,” remarked Blimby, frankly.

“We did our best to make Jimmy understand that,” continued Colonel Sylvester, with a faint smile. “His father ardently wished him to study law, but that profession had no attraction for him.”

“That’s mighty odd,” commented Tom. “Why, our Bob is going to be a lawyer.”

“When Jimmy’s parents went to New York on an extended visit they left him in charge of Mr. Raymond’s partner. The lad stood this arrangement for a short while; then, after leaving a note for his temporary guardian, he and his savings left Brownsville together.”

“Humph!” muttered Tom.

“He headed straight for the ‘Eagle Pass’ Ranch, thinking, of course, that I should see the matter from his point of view. I told the lad bluntly, however, that he was not at all suited for such a life, and ordered him to return to Brownsville forthwith.”

“And he didn’t,” said Tom.

“No, not a bit of it. I found that he possessed far more spirit and courage than I had ever given him credit for. The rebellious Jimmy, disagreeing with everybody, immediately took himself away to parts unknown.”

“Just like a kid!” growled the cowboy.

“After vainly trying to find some trace of him, I became worried enough to put the matter into the hands of the authorities. I feel certain that Jimmy must have found out about this, and perhaps thought he would be subjected to the disgrace of arrest, and hauled before a justice. He is a sensitive, high-strung boy, and no doubt his feelings were deeply wounded.”

“I think you are right, sir,” said Tom. “For whenever I happened to mention the Texas Rangers a very curious expression always came over his face.”

The ranchman rising to his feet began to pace the floor. “My mind has been greatly relieved in a way,” he resumed meditatively, “and yet”—he paused—“and yet I can’t help feeling deeply concerned about Jimmy’s safety in that Mexican town!”

“It sure ain’t no place for a kid,” exclaimed the cowboy. “The Mexican rebs, before very long, is sure to blow the whole bloomin’ place to bits!”

“Blimby!” Colonel Sylvester spoke in sharp, earnest tones, “something has to be done, and at once. But for the fact that I have a very important stock deal on hand and engagements with some representatives of Eastern buyers, I’d go myself. You ought not to be spared from the range just at this time when cattle rustlers are apt to swoop down on the herds; but better a thousand times that they should take every steer I own than to let anything happen to Jimmy. You must——”

“I don’t think so, Colonel,” interrupted Tom, quietly. “Bob Somers and I will go after Jimmy to-day, explain how things are, and bring him right back to you.”

“Why, my dear boy, I couldn’t think of allowing you to assume such a risk!” protested the ranchman.

“But he and I intended to go back a bit later on, in any event,” said the Rambler with a smile. “Please just leave it to us. Do I know the danger? Oh, yes—though it probably isn’t so very great, sir.”

Then followed a long earnest discussion during which Blimby, who hadn’t any great desire to set foot on Mexican soil, remained discreetly silent.

“Tom!” exclaimed the colonel, at length, holding out his hand, “you’ve won your point and also my everlasting gratitude. Tell Jimmy I’ll give him a chance to be a cowboy if he still desires to try that sort of life.”

“That’s sure the best way to bust that beautiful dream o’ hisn,” commented Blimby.

“You may expect to see Jimmy very soon,” said Tom. Then suddenly recalling his experience of the early morning he related the particulars to the ranchman.

The Rambler was quite disappointed. Instead of creating a sensation, as he had half expected, not the slightest change of expression came over Colonel Sylvester’s face, though he listened with attention jotting down several notes on a piece of paper.

“Think you could find the location of this place Tom speaks about?” he asked, turning to Blimby.

“Certain sure, Colonel,” responded the cowboy. “’Tain’t so very far from where the old Mexican hangs out in an old tumble-down shack. By thunder! son, mebbe you’ve struck somethin’ worth followin’ up.” Blimby suddenly lowered his voice; then, looking up and down as if he feared his words might be overheard, he added, “I don’t know as how I ought to say it, Colonel, but—but——”

“Go ahead, Blimby,” said the ranchman, encouragingly.

“I’ve had me s’picions about that there old chap. Ye see it weren’t so very long after the rustlers got to work ag’in that he bobs up, smilin’. This young chap asks me about him—I didn’t say nothin’ much; but now—hang it all, after this tale o’ hisn, ain’t I got a right to?”

Tom Clifton, whose eyes had brightened tremendously, was on the point of blurting out that he too had thought of exactly the same thing, when by a strong effort he repressed the temptation and instead remained silent while Colonel Sylvester spoke up. “We mustn’t jump at hasty conclusions, Blimby,” he said. “It might be wiser not to express such thoughts.”

“Mebbe,” admitted the cowboy, twirling his sombrero. “But it strikes me the old Mexican’s too perlite an’ smilin’ to be all right.”

“Now, Tom,” exclaimed the ranchman, “kindly step this way.” The Rambler followed him inside the house, and a few moments later they entered the handsomely furnished library.

Colonel Sylvester called his attention to a telephone resting on a table.

“I wish you would call up Captain Julius Braddock at company headquarters,” he said, “and tell him about your experience.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Tom.

He lifted the transmitter to his mouth, and presently he and Captain Braddock at the far-away Ranger headquarters, by means of the wire stretching across the lonely prairie, were hearing each other’s voices almost as distinctly as though they were standing but a few feet apart.

The Ranger chief expressed a few words of surprise on learning to whom he was speaking.

“And actually at the ‘Eagle Pass’ Ranch,” he exclaimed. “Is the colonel there?—good. I must have a word with him. What’s that—you have something interesting to tell me—fine—fine; go right ahead!”

Whether his story made any impression on Captain Braddock or not Tom was unable to tell. The former told him, however, that the Texas Rangers always investigated even the smallest clues, and Colonel Sylvester could depend upon the policemen’s looking thoroughly into the matter.

“I’ll relay the information at once to detachment quarters,” came over the wire. “On your way there now, are you?—good. You will be able to give Sergeant Howell all the necessary directions for finding the place. Good-bye. Please tell the colonel I want him on the ’phone.”

During the few minutes’ conversation which took place between the two men, Tom found it hard to control his growing impatience. He gave an audible sigh of relief when the instrument was set back on the table and Colonel Sylvester faced him.

“I’m going, sir,” he said.

“So soon!”

“Yes, sir—I reckon if everything goes right Bob Somers and I will start for Mexico this very afternoon.”

The lad walked briskly outside, to find Blimby already in the saddle.

Colonel Sylvester’s face wore a much disturbed expression when, not many minutes afterward, he warmly shook Tom Clifton’s hand, spoke a few words of adieu to him and the cowboy, and watched both galloping off side by side.

“A brave, daring young chap!” he murmured. “But I almost wish now I hadn’t consented to the lad’s going on an errand where there is a possibility of his being exposed to so much danger.”