George walked out of the room, banging the door behind him, while Ned threw himself into his chair and looked at his father who mopped his face vigorously with his handkerchief, while his hands trembled so violently that he could scarcely control them. They had passed through a very trying interview.
"Now, I just want to know if anybody ever heard of such miserable luck as I have," exclaimed Ned, who was the first to break the silence. "Here I was, pluming myself on being the owner of the finest cattle ranche in Texas, when, as if to mock me and show me how all my bright hopes are destined to end, in walks George, as cool as a cucumber, and looking as though he had never seen a Greaser. Why in the world couldn't they hold fast to him after they got him? My forty thousand a year are up a hollow stump, and George knows everything. Did you hire those men to capture him?"
"Didn't you hear me say that every word of his story was false?" demanded his father, fiercely. "Would I be likely to put my nephew's life in jeopardy?"
"If there is no truth in it, I don't see how he came to hear it from so many different sources."
"And neither do I see how he found out that you sent that money to Gus Robbins," said Uncle John. "Have you any idea how that got to his ears?"
"Not the slightest," answered Ned. He saw that his father was almost ready to boil over with fury, and he did not think it would be quite safe to acknowledge that it was through his own admissions that George had become acquainted with that little circumstance. "Gus must have told him; or it may be that I have enemies as well as you. But what are we going to do? That's the question."
And it was one that aroused Uncle John from the stupor into which he had fallen, and showed him the necessity of prompt and decisive action. He jumped from his chair and began walking up and down the room.
"Can George turn you out of your position and have somebody appointed in your place?" continued Ned.
"Of course he can. I hoped to keep him in ignorance concerning that fact, but Gilbert, or some other busy-body, has been posting him."
"Then you had better make things straight with him and be quick about it," said Ned, growing frightened again. "If you don't, he'll oust you sure, and then what will become of me--of both of us? You'll have to go back to your desk again, and I'll have to pick up my yard-stick. Father, I never could endure that sort of life again. You _must_ make it up with him?"