"Sure. Some kind of trouble sooner or later," replied Belding,
gloomily. "Why, you can stand on my ranch and step over into
Mexico. Laddy says we'll lose horses and other stock in night raids.
Jim Lash doesn't look for any worse. But Jim isn't as well
acquainted with Greasers as I am. Anyway, my boy, as soon as you
can hold a bridle and a gun you'll be on the job, don't mistake me."
"With Laddy and Jim?" asked Dick, trying to be cool.
"Sure. With them and me, and by yourself."
Dick drew a deep breath, and even after Belding had departed he
forgot for a moment about the letter in his hand. Then he unfolded
the paper and read:
Dear Dick,--You've more than saved my life. To the end of my
days you'll be the one man to whom I owe everything. Words fail
to express my feelings.
This must be a brief note. Belding is waiting, and I used up most
of the time writing to Mercedes. I like Belding. He was not
unknown to me, though I never met or saw him before. You'll be
interested to learn that he's the unadulterated article, the real
Western goods. I've heard of some of his stunts, and they made
my hair curl. Dick, your luck is staggering. The way Belding spoke
of you was great. But you deserve it, old man.
I'm leaving Mercedes in your charge, subject, of course, to advice
from Belding. Take care of her, Dick, for my life is wrapped up
in her. By all means keep her from being seen by Mexicans. We
are sitting tight here--nothing doing.
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