After carrying out Tom's orders we all turned in and slept till daylight, when the veteran's usual morning call brought back the recollection of the recent exciting incidents.
After breakfast Tom rode over to the store to see what he could learn of the jayhawkers.
Before he started: Jack asked, "Tom, what are we to do with Tucker's horse?"
"Why, Jack, ef no more rightful owner than Tucker turns up to claim him the horse is fairly yours by right of capture."
"I've been thinkin' it over," said Jack, "an' come to this conclusion: We know that these jayhawkers make a business of robbing people, taking all the good horses an' mules they come across; it's more'n likely that this Tucker has stole this fine horse from somebody hereabouts, an' I think the square thing to do will be to leave word with the ol' storekeeper that in case any man comes along claiming the horse, an' can prove his property, we'll give him up to the rightful owner. If the owner should show up in a day or two he can follow us up, prove ownership, an' take his horse. Ef he shouldn't show up until after we've got out to our winter's camp, or well on the road toward it, we'll leave word with the storekeeper to say that we'll be comin' back this way in the spring an' we'll fix the business up then."
"Good idea, Jack," said Tom. "I guess that'll be as good a plan as any to settle about the ownership of the horse, an' we'll leave it that way."
"As to the horse being mine," added Jack, "in case no owner turns up, I don't look at it that way. This is a partnership concern, I take it, an' everything belongs to all hands. But that horse is a dandy. I was out brushin' him off a bit ago, an' I haven't laid a currycomb on a finer animal this long time. He's young--only six years old--well built, clean-limbed, got good action, fine carriage, sound as a dollar, an' I'll warrant he can run a good lick, too."
As Tom started off, instead of following the road he took a course across the prairie that would bring him to the creek some distance from the regular ford, thus, instinctively, as it were, following out an old frontier scouting rule by which we were taught that in travelling a probably dangerous road one should avoid the regular crossing of a timbered creek as a precaution against being ambushed.