“Why didn’t you call us?” protested Horace.

“Because I thought you were all tired and that sleep would do you good.”

“And I suppose if Larry or Tom hadn’t happened to wake up, you would have let us sleep all day?”

“I suppose I should,” said his mother, smiling.  “When you are in bed I know that you are safe.”

“You must not worry about us, Mrs. Wilder,” interposed Larry.  “I always tell mother that we are old enough to take care of ourselves.  So I wish you would feel the same.  I think it would save you no end of anxiety.”

“Undoubtedly.  But I never can think of my Horace except as my baby.”

“Huh!  I’m a pretty husky baby,” grunted the boy.  “See here, mother, I’m fifteen now, so I wish you’d stop calling me your baby.  When a fellow has been put in charge of the Half-Moon herd he doesn’t like to be called a baby.”

“I’ll try to remember,” returned Mrs. Wilder gently.  Yet there was a wistfulness in her voice that caused Horace to look up, and, at the sight of her face, he left his chair, ran and put his arm around her neck, exclaiming: 

“If you want to call me baby, you can, Momsy!  I don’t care.  Tom and Larry are the right stuff and they won’t laugh.”

Ere either of the brothers could reply Hop Joy appeared.

“Ned he goee pool,” he announced.  “Say if you boys wantee go, you hully.”

“Tell him to bring up Blackhawk, Lightning and Lady Belle.  Then put up some food for us, Hop Joy.  Plenty of it, mind.”

As the Chinaman glided from the room Mrs. Wilder asked: 

“Why do you take anything except for lunch, son?”

“Because I think we will spend the night at the pool.  Larry and Tom want to see the will-o’-the-wisps, and we maybe able to catch some fish early to-morrow morning.  You know father always says early morning is the only time to fish in the pool.”

“Well, I don’t suppose it will do any harm for you to be gone over night.  Only be careful.  I shall worry if you are not back before dusk tomorrow night.”

Permission to pass the night obtained, the comrades quickly collected their rifles and some fishing tackle, mounted the ponies Ned had brought up and rode away.

After learning from their companion that he had found Pete and the herd at the pool when he arrived, the lads indulged in speculation as to when and where the pursuers would come across the raiders and the chances of recovering the cattle.

Of a sudden, remembering his discussion, with his brother the night before, Larry asked: 

“How do you stop a stampede, Ned?”

“You generally don’t,” replied the man with a grin.

“But you try, don’t you?  I’m sure I’ve read of cowboys stopping stampedes.”

“I guess they do it easier in story books then than on the plains.  The best way to stop a stampede is not to let it start.  Still, if there’s enough boys on hand, I suppose it could be done.  The only way, though, would be to ride down the leaders and turn them round.