AT LAST.

The next morning Jack was quite rested, and very eager to join Joe, who proposed they should go and see the start of the prisoners. They walked towards the gaol, and arrived there just as the party were starting. The horse-thieves, eight in number, were all pinioned, and were riding in the midst of a band of well-armed hors.e.m.e.n, who were ever on the alert to detect the first attempt to escape from any of the prisoners. They were a sullen, desperate-looking set of men, who scowled fiercely at the restless crowd as they surged round them, almost pus.h.i.+ng against the horses in their efforts to see all they could of the far-famed evil gang, who at last had fallen into the hands of justice. At a signal from the Sheriff the little band moved away and slowly trotted out of sight. When they had disappeared from view, everyone followed the Sheriff (who had remained behind with two of his men) to the big corral, where the captured horses were still standing.

Jack and Joe went with the crowd and stood looking at the horses, while the Sheriff began busily entering in his notebook the different brands marked on the animals.

'What's that for?' asked Jack.

'To help find out the owners,' returned Joe. 'You see the Sheriff 'll advertise these brands, and the colours of the horses, and then folks as have lost any 'll come and identify 'em.'

Suddenly Jack gave a cry of delight, and clambering over the bars of the corral, rushed into the midst of the loose horses towards a yellow-coated broncho. He flung his arms round the horse's neck and fairly hugged it. Then, keeping hold of the s.h.a.ggy mane, he led the animal towards the bars, where his friend stood staring in astonishment.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'JACK RUSHED INTO THE MIDST OF THE HORSES TOWARDS A YELLOW-COATED BRONCHO.']

'Joe!' he shouted joyfully. 'Just see! Here's Buckskin, our old "Buck," as I've told you about!'

Everyone looked at the excited boy, and the Sheriff glanced rather suspiciously at him, for, strange to say, the brand on the yellow broncho had puzzled him more than all the others, being quite unknown to him.

He called out sharply, 'Say! what does that boy know about that horse?

Tell him to come here.'

Jack led Buckskin up to where he stood, and said quietly, 'This horse belongs to my dad. Here's his brand, V.C., on his hip, and he has an old scar that was done once when he was shot just afore we got him.'

'Where is it?' asked the Sheriff dubiously.

'Here!' returned Jack promptly, as he lifted Buckskin's mane and showed the place, plain enough, where a bullet had once pa.s.sed through the neck. 'I could swear to Buckskin anywhere.'

'You're right, my lad,' said the Sheriff, after looking carefully at the scar. 'And who's your dad?'

'George Wilson,' answered Jack. 'He lives on the Cochetopa Creek, and freights up and down the mountains.'

'Does anyone know George Wilson, of Cochetopa Creek?' asked the Sheriff, appealing to the crowd.

A man stood forward and said, 'I guess I saw the man you want last week, if he's an Englishman. I didn't know his name, for he's only just moved up to a small ranch about fifteen miles from here. I do believe when I met him as he was drivin' a sorrel broncho, the same colour as that one, but I never noticed the brand.'

'Joe! Joe! d'you hear that?' exclaimed Jack, in his joyful surprise forgetting the Sheriff and everyone else. 'We're close to home after all. Isn't it grand?'

The Sheriff looked puzzled at this outburst, until Champion Joe, who was well known to him, came forward and briefly told Jack's story. He also testified to Jack's good character, and finally persuaded the officer to give over the stolen horse into their hands. A proud boy was our hero when, a few hours later, he drove out of Redwood in Joe's buckboard, having Buckskin securely fastened on behind.

The weather had decidedly changed since the day before, and the sky looked dark and lowering as they drove along the prairie road. Jack, however, was in high spirits, for he was drawing close to the end of his long journey, and was thinking he would soon see his dear father and mother.

'We'll make your home by evening if we have good luck,' said Joe cheerfully; 'but I'm feared as we're in for a snowstorm, and maybe a blizzard.'

Joe was right. As they got a little further on their way, the snow began to fall in heavy flakes, and faster and faster they came down.

Worse still! Far away up in the mountains above them they could hear a warning roar that proclaimed the advent of a prairie storm. Joe urged Captain on with all his might.

'We're in for a blizzard,' he cried. 'It's coming on quick, and 'll soon overtake us. Cochetopa Creek is only a few miles ahead of us now, and if we could get that far we'd find quaking aspens that would break the worst of the storm, and we could shelter there till morning.'

On they struggled, but the cold was intense, and long before they could reach the creek the blizzard struck them with full force. The snow froze as it fell and cut their faces, while the icy tempest whirled up clouds of these sharp particles, blinding Joe. He made Jack get under the tough buffalo robe, but the fierce cold was penetrating even through that. In a short time Joe found they had wandered off the road, and after driving aimlessly about in the storm, trying to find it again, he had at last to give it up and acknowledge that they were _lost_. It was an awful sensation, and when they had once pulled up, Captain refused to stir and stood with his back to the storm.

The hunter knew they must all freeze to death if they stayed there any length of time, and he determined to try the only expedient left, which was to abandon the buckboard and trust themselves to the animals. With difficulty he put a bridle on Buckskin, who was trembling with fright and cold, and, hoisting Jack up on his back, managed to tie him on with a bit of rope. He then unharnessed the mule and scrambled on it himself.

'We must try and keep together if possible,' said he; 'and now, off we go!'

The animals plunged forward amidst the drifting snow and shrieking storm, but in a few minutes they were swept apart, and Jack missed his companion. He pulled up, and called in vain for Joe; but the storm roared round, drowning everything in the darkness. At last Jack felt the wisest thing was to leave himself entirely to Buckskin, and not even try to guide him. The cold was beginning to stupefy the boy, and he had a strange feeling of numbness growing over him. The good old horse plodded steadily on, while Jack laid the reins on his back, saying with a sob, 'Go on, Buck. I shall die soon if you don't save me.' Suddenly Buckskin stopped, and, although Jack had just sense to be aware of it, he was quite unable to rouse himself from the deadly stupor he had fallen into. If he had not been secured by a rope on Buckskin, he would have slipped off long before on to the ground. But help was at hand. Buckskin had stopped by some bars. Like all prairie horses, he was very clever, and finding his rider made no effort to get off and put the bars down for him, he set to work to try and do it himself. He got his head under the top pole, and lifted it up from its place until one end fell down. He was working at the second when a dog's bark sounded close by, and very soon a light appeared in the doorway of a small log-house inside the bars, as a man came out and looked about.

It was too dark for him to see the horse outside, and Jack was quite unconscious by this time, so it would have fared badly with our friends in the storm, if the dog had not plunged forward over the snow and commenced barking frantically round them. This surprised the man, and procuring a lantern, he came towards the bars.

'What is it, Jim? Only coyotes, I believe. You silly old rogue!' he said as the dog rushed back to him; but as he got closer, he perceived the dark form of a horse.

'h.e.l.lo! What have we here?' he exclaimed, as he let down the bars. 'A loose horse! Why, I declare, it's old Buck back again! But what has he got on his back? It looks like a child!'

He quickly led the horse to the door, and by the light of the lantern untied the rope, and carried the motionless figure into the house.

'Here, wife,' he called out, 'come and see to this child, while I take the horse to the stable. It's the strangest thing I ever knew. Buck gets stolen, and to-night I find him at the bars in this blizzard, with a kid on his back!'

A woman took the boy, and laid him on a couch some distance from the fire. She then removed the blanket, and was chafing the stiff limbs to bring back the circulation, when her husband returned, having made Buckskin as comfortable as possible in his own stable.

'Look! He's coming round a bit,' said the woman hopefully. 'Pour some warm coffee between his lips.'

The man obeyed, and the liquid seemed to revive the unconscious boy.

He sighed and opened his eyes. He saw a gentle face bending over him, and knew his troubles were ended.

'Oh, Mother darling! I ain't dead, and I've found you at last!' was his joyful cry, and the next moment he was folded in her loving arms.

[Ill.u.s.tration: '"OH, MOTHER DARLING! I AIN'T DEAD, AND I'VE FOUND YOU AT LAST!"']

Such a meeting as this one between Jack and his long-lost parents is indescribable, and we must draw a veil over the first few hours of their happy reunion.

'Oh, George,' said the comforted mother later on, when Jack had quite recovered, 'isn't it wonderful how it all happened? To think that old Buck should have brought our own little Jack to our very door.'

'Yes, indeed,' returned her husband. 'What a merciful thing it was that Jim heard them at the bars, for Jack was very nearly done for with the awful cold!'

Tears of joy had poured down the checks of the parents when they discovered it was really their darling who had come to them in the storm, and they did not forget to kneel down and thank G.o.d for His marvellous preservation of their child.

'Mother,' said Jack, 'you were right: you told me to ask G.o.d to take care of us until we met again, and He has done it.'

'Yes, that He has,' returned his mother; 'and we have much to thank Him for.'

'You stick to Him right through your life, Jack, as you've begun,' said George Wilson solemnly, 'for He's the best guide and protector any man can have.'

'I will, Daddy,' answered the boy firmly.

Jack was soon able to give an account of his adventure in the blizzard, and expressed great anxiety about the fate of his friend, Champion Joe.

'It's madness to look for him to-night,' said George Wilson, 'but I'll be out first thing and seek him in the morning.'

It was a great relief to them all when about daybreak the next day they were roused by a knock at the door, which proved to be the hunter himself. He had come to ask for help in finding his missing companion, and you may imagine his joyful surprise to learn that Jack, in spite of the storm, had safely reached home and his journey was over! The mule had managed to struggle to the creek, where he and his master had sheltered among the quaking aspens until morning, the latter being in an agony of mind all night about Jack.