"Oh! a messenger from town, was it?" said Frank, with a relieved look.

"Then the chances are it must have been some business connected with a shipment of cattle. Perhaps the railroad has had a bad wreck, and wants to settle for that last bunch we sent away."

But Ted shook his head in the negative.

"'T'wan't no railroad man; that I know," he affirmed, positively.

"'Sides, the boss was holdin' of a bottle in his hand, an' seemed to set a heap of store by it."

"A bottle, Ted?" cried Frank, deeply interested.

"That's what," replied the cowboy, energetically. "But jest why he should reckon such a thing wuth shucks I can't tell ye. But he sent me out to bring you back to the ranch house like two-forty. I seen that he was plumb locoed, and some excited by the news, whatever it might be."

Frank looked at his chum in a puzzled way, and shook his head.

"I don't seem able to make head or tail of this business, Bob," he remarked; "but there's only one thing to be done, and that's to romp home on the gallop. So away we go with a rush. Who's after me! Hi! get long, Buckskin! It's a race for a treat of oats as a prize! Here you are, Bob; hit up the pace!"

With the words Frank gave his horse free rein, and went tearing over the level plain, headed as straight for the distant ranch as though he were a bird far up in the clear air, and could see to make a direct line "as the crow flies!"

And after a time, in the distance, they saw the whitewashed outbuildings of Circle Ranch. Frank never viewed the familiar and dearly loved scene with more anxiety than he did now; but so far as he could see there did not appear to be anything out of the ordinary taking place around the ranch house.

"Looks all right, Bob!" exclaimed Frank, as though a great load had been taken from his heart.

The sudden coming of Ted Conway, with that queer message that meant a hurried return, had mystified the boy not a little. But he knew that all would soon be made plain now, since they were nearly home.

Dashing up in front of the house, the two lads jumped to the ground almost before their mounts had come to a halt. The door was open, and Frank led the way in a headlong rush.

As they entered he saw his father seated in his comfortable easy-chair, with that unfortunate leg, that had given him more or less trouble for two years now, propped on another seat, and bound up.

There was a stranger with him, but no sign of the Arrowhead Ranch cowboy doctor; which would indicate that, having done his duty, the roving physician and bone-setter had returned to his regular business, which was roping and branding cattle.

Colonel Haywood was a man in the prime of life. Up to the time that clumsy steer had broken his leg he had been most active; but since then he had not been able to get around on his feet so well, though able to ride fairly comfortably.

"h.e.l.lo! Frank, my boy!" he exclaimed, as the two came rushing in. "So Ted managed to round you up in great style; did he? Well, I always said Ted was the sharpest fellow on the range when it came to finding things.

Where have you been to-day?"

"Doing a little missionary work for the country," replied Frank, smiling. "We came across that lame pet yearling, the dun-colored one you thought so much of; and there was mighty little left of the poor beast but a torn hide, not worth lifting."

"Huh! wolves again!" exclaimed the stock-raiser, with a frown.

"Sure thing, sir," Frank went on. "We saw a heap of signs that told us our old friend, Sallie, with the broken tooth, had been on the job again. But that was the last of our beef the old lady'll ever taste, or anybody else's, for that matter."

"What's that? Did you sight her, and get a shot?" demanded the pleased rancher, forgetting his broken leg in his excitement, and making a movement that immediately caused him to give a grunt, and settle back again.

"Old Hank happened to run across our trail just then," Frank continued; "and we made up our minds to track the beast to her lair. Where do you suppose we found it, dad, but in the big bunch of rocks that lies about ten miles to the west?"

"You surprise me; but go on, tell me the rest, and then I'm going to let you in on something that will open your eyes a little," remarked the stockman.

"Oh! there isn't much more to tell, dad," the boy hastened to say, for he was eager to learn what all this mystery meant. "We found the opening, easy enough, and made up our minds to crawl in after Sallie, the whole three of us. So Hank picked up some wood for a flare, and in we went."

"And you found her home? You met with a warm reception, I warrant!" the other exclaimed, his eyes kindling with pride as he saw the quiet, confident air with which Frank rattled off his story.

"Sallie was in, ditto five of her half-grown brood, and all full of fight," the boy continued. "But of course they didn't have a ghost of a show against our two repeating rifles. Hank held the torch, and Bob fired first. Then the brute jumped, and nearly got Hank, who lost the flare for a few seconds. We keeled over the ugly whelps as they started for us; and later on found old Sallie, just as she had dropped. That big jump was her last."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, son," declared the rancher, who had suffered long and seriously from the depredations of that sly animal and her various broods, despite all efforts to locate her, and put an end to her attacks.

"I'm glad you're pleased with what we did," Frank remarked.

"It will mean a lot to all honest ranchmen in this section," continued the cattleman. "With Sallie gone, we can hope to raise a record herd the coming season, without keeping men constantly on the watch, day and night, for a slinking thief that defied our best efforts. Shake hands, Bob, and let me congratulate you on making the shot that ended the loping of the worst pest this country has known in five years."

"But when Ted came whirling along, shouting, and waving his hat, to tell us you wanted me back home on the jump, it gave me a bad feeling, dad; especially when I heard that you'd gone and hurt that leg again!" Frank cried, as he, too, seized the other hand of his father, and squeezed it affectionately.

"But I told Ted to be sure and let you know that it was not on account of my new upset that I wanted you back," declared the ranchman, frowning.

"Yes, he delivered the message all right, dad; but all the same I was bothered a heap, let me tell you," Frank went on. "And now, please, tell us what it's all about; won't you; and what this gentleman has to do with it; also the bottle Ted said you were handling?"

At that Colonel Haywood smiled, and looked up at the stranger.

"This is a Mr. Hinchman, Frank," he remarked. "He lives in a small place on the great Colorado River called Mohave City. And one day, not long ago, a man who was fishing on the river at a place where an eddy set in, found a curious bottle floating, that was sealed with red wax on the top, and seemed to contain only a piece of paper. This is the bottle,"

and as he spoke he opened a drawer of the desk, and drew out the flask in question.

Frank took it, and turned it around. So far as he could see it was an ordinary bottle. It contained no cork, but there were signs of sealing wax around the top.

"Mr. Hinchman, is, I believe," the ranchman went on, "though he has been too modest to say so himself, a gentleman of some importance in Mohave City, which accounted for the fisherman fetching his queer find to him.

The bottle had evidently come down the great river, perhaps for one or two hundred miles, escaping destruction from contact with rocks in a marvelous manner, and finally falling into the hands of one who had both the time and the curiosity to examine its sealed contents."

Colonel Haywood thereupon took up a small piece of paper from the pad of the desk.

"This is what he found in the bottle, Frank," continued the stockman.

"It bore my address, and the name of my ranch here; so thinking that it might be something more than a practical joke he concluded to journey all the way across the country to see me. It was a mighty nice thing for Mr. Hinchman to do, and something I am not apt to forget in a hurry, either."

"Then the paper interested you, dad, it seems?" Frank remarked, eagerly.

"It certainly did, son, and I rather think you will feel the same as I did when I tell you whose name is written at the bottom of this little communication," the cattleman went on.

"All right, I'm ready to hear it," Frank remarked, laughingly.

"Felix Oswald!" replied his father, quickly.

The boy was indeed intensely surprised, if one could judge from his manner.

"Your Uncle Felix, dad, who has been gone these three years, and whose mysterious disappearance set the whole scientific world guessing. And you say his name is there, signed to that paper found in the sealed bottle? Well, you sure have given me a surprise. Then he's still alive?"

"He seemed to be when he wrote this," the cattleman said, reflectively; "but as he failed to put any date on it, we can only guess how long the bottle has been cruising down the Colorado, sucked into eddies that might hold it for weeks or months, until a rise in the river sent it forth again."

"Say, doesn't that beat everything you ever heard of, Bob?" declared Frank, turning to his chum.

"It certainly does," replied Bob, and then the ranchman's boy continued:

"Perhaps you remember me telling you some things about this queer old uncle of dad's, Bob, and how, after he had made a name for himself, he suddenly vanished in a night, leaving word behind that he was going to study the biggest subject any man could ever tackle. And as he didn't want to be bothered, he said he would leave no address behind. They've looked for him all over Europe, Asia and Africa, but he was never heard from again. And now to think that he's sent word to dad; and in a sealed bottle too!"