ent had sent for him in such a hurry.
"Got your gun?" asked Porter.
"Yes," answered Roy, tapping the pistol in its holster at his belt.
"Maybe you'd better take my pony," suggested Billy. "He can travel faster than yours."
"No; Jack Rabbit's good enough for me," replied the boy, patting his own pony on the neck. "Yours may be a bit faster, but Jack Rabbit will stick longer. Well, I'm off!"
"Good luck!" called Billy.
"Don't worry!" advised Porter.
"We'll see you in a couple of days," shouted the other cowboys. "Take care of yourself."
"I will," said Roy, as he called to his pony, who started off on a steady "lope" that rapidly carried him over the ground.
Now that he was away from the confusion of the camp, and had nothing to distract his mind, Roy gave himself up to thoughts of his father.
"He must be quite sick," he reasoned, "or he never would have sent for me in such a rush. I wonder if Porter was afraid to tell me the truth?"
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