Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 223: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Where Karl Went. 211 which he would be tripped up, had they guessed his presence. As good fortune would have it, he heard the hard gallop suddenly break into a walk, and knew that what he had long yearned to have happen had come to pass. “Whoa, Buckskin, boy!” he called out, softly. Then, pulling the only too willing nag in, he al- lowed him to move forward slowly. Meanwhile he strained his vision for some sign of the kidnappers. The men were cold and hungry, and took the chances of discovery—food and hot coffee they must have after lying out all day and making this long, hard run. When Karl saw the little glow of a fire he re- joiced. “Buckskin, my boy, we're in luck,” he whispered in the ear of his sympathetic steed. “This delay’s going to give you a chance to rest and pluck up— see?” Buckskin flicked his tail and rubbed his soft muz- zle against the cowboy’s hand. “Then, too,” said Karl, “it’s going to give me a chance to spy around this camp and see what these fellers are, anyway.” Buckskin was too well bred to whinnv when there was any danger around, but he shook his head sa- gaciously, and Karl was satisfied. “Then, best of all,” concluded the youngster, “it’ll give the lot at the camp time to catch up, and every minute is precious. And now, my boy, I'll fix you up, and go on a little tour.” With which he proceeded to picket Buckskin, marking the spot well, so that he would have no difficulty in finding it again in case he wanted the broncho in a hurry. Then he crept toward the camp. cComiclbooks C©