"But we don't want to wait for them," said Frank. "We must escape to-night, if possible. We can find our way home from here; but, if we stay with these villains two or three days longer, they will have taken us so far into the mountains, that we never can get out. I propose that we wait until dark, and see what arrangements they intend to make for the night, before we determine upon our plans. If they allow us to remain unbound, and leave only one sentinel to guard us, we'll see what can be done. In the meantime, I move that we all take a nap."

The prisoners settled themselves comfortably on their blankets, and, in a few moments, three of them were sleeping soundly, all unconscious of the fact that their wide-awake companion was impatiently awaiting an opportunity to repeat to the robber chief every word of their recent conversation.

"Pierre said, that if any of us heard the others talking of escape, and didn't tell him of it, he would pitch us over that precipice," muttered Arthur. "He looked straight at me when he said it; so I shall take him at his word, and put him on his guard against these fellows. I'll not go back on them—O, no! Johnny Harris didn't call me a coward, did he? And that little spindle-shanked Yankee, and his cousin, didn't insult me, by sending me my hat and gun, and the skin of that wolf, and by telling every body in the settlement that I was frightened out of my senses, without seeing any thing to be frightened at, did they? I'd like to catch that Archie Winters by himself. He's little, and I am sure that I could whip him. I'll pay them all for what they have done to me, and before I get through with them, they will learn, that it is always best to treat a gentleman with respect."

As Arthur said this, he looked contemptuously at his slumbering companions, and then turned his back to them, and went to sleep.



CHAPTER XV.

MORE TREACHERY.

When Frank awoke, it was nearly dark. The glade was lighted up by a fire, that one of the Rancheros had kindled, and beside which he stood, superintending the cooking of the supper. Archie and Johnny were still sleeping soundly, but Arthur Vane's blanket was empty, and that young gentleman was nowhere to be seen.

Frank raised himself to a sitting posture, rubbed his eyes, and yawned; and then, seeing that the cook was rummaging in the pack-saddle after more luxuries, and judging by that that supper was nearly ready, he shook his companions, and arose to his feet. He went to the spring, and was preparing to wash his hands and face in the little brook that ran across the glade, when his attention was attracted by the sound of voices close by. He found that they came from behind the bowlder; and, after listening a moment, he recognized the voices as those of Pierre Costello, and Arthur Vane. At first, Frank thought nothing of this circumstance. He bent over the brook, and plunged his hands into the water, when the thought occurred to him that this was a strange proceeding on the part of Arthur Vane. If the latter had any thing to say to the chief, why did he not talk to him in the camp? Frank's suspicions were aroused. He stood, for a moment, undecided how to act, and then, dropping on his hands and knees, he crept cautiously around the end of the bowlder, and presently came in sight of Pierre and his companion. They were sitting on the ground, facing each other—the chief calmly smoking a cigarette, while Arthur was amusing himself by cutting the grass around him with the Ranchero's bowie-knife.

"This is very odd," thought Frank. "Arthur acts more like a confidential friend than a prisoner."

Our hero drew back, and listened to the conversation that followed, during which he gained some insight into the character of his new acquaintance.

"I do not admire your way of doing business," he heard Arthur say, at length. "You treat me no better than you treat them. You told me that you knew by my looks that I was a gentleman, and you promised to respect me as such. You assured me that I should be allowed to show fight whenever I pleased, and that you would not hurt me for it. How have you kept those promises? What did you do to me this morning? You jerked my gun out of my hands, and raised it over my head, as if you were going to knock me down. One of your men threw his lasso around my neck, and choked me until I could scarcely breathe, and another aimed a pistol at me. Is that treating me like a gentleman or a visitor?"

"What else could we do?" demanded Pierre. "Didn't you tell me that you wanted us to act natural, so that your three enemies would not suspect that you had a previous understanding with me in regard to their capture?"

"Certainly; but I didn't tell you to abuse me, did I? See how I was treated when we were coming through this pass! My keeper struck my horse with his lasso, and came near sending me over the precipice; and you laughed at it. When I look toward you, why don't you give me a wink, or a nod, to show that you have not forgotten your promises, and that you will protect me?"

"Because I never have had a chance to do it without being seen by the others. If you know when you are well off, you will take every precaution to keep those boys from finding out how treacherous you have been. You must not expect any signs of friendship from me. I shall stick to my promise, and see that no serious injury is done you; but, if you will insist in showing your courage by fighting us, you must make up your mind to be roughly handled. You say that Frank didn't read to me what he wrote in that letter?"

"No, he did not. He never said a word to his uncle about sending the money. He told him not to do it. He advised him to capture your messenger, by all means, and to send those trappers up here, with a party of men, by daylight to-morrow morning."

"Well, they'll not find us," said the chief, who seemed to take the matter very coolly. "By daylight we shall be miles from here. We'll start as soon as the moon rises, so that we can see to travel through the pass. After supper, I shall have those fellows bound hand and foot—that will prevent their escape, I think—and, of course, I must tie you, also."

"I don't like the idea of lying all night with my hands fastened behind my back," objected Arthur.

"I can't help that. Those boys must be confined; for I am not going to lose sixty thousand dollars, if I can help it; and, if you wish to avoid suspicion, you must be tied with the rest."

"I shall resist. I want to make those fellows believe that they are a pack of cowards. Don't let your men handle me too roughly."

"I'll look out for that," said Pierre. "Now, let us go back to the camp. You have been away too long already."

"O, you outrageous villain!" thought Frank, who was so astonished and bewildered by what he had heard, that he scarcely knew what he was about. "Won't you suffer for this day's work if we ever get back to the settlement?"

The movements of the traitor, who just then arose to his feet, brought Frank to himself again. He retreated precipitately, and, when Arthur came out from behind the bowlder, he was sitting on his blanket, talking to Archie and Johnny.

"Fellows," said he, in an excited voice, "we're ruined! That rascal has blabbed the whole thing!"

"Who? What rascal? what thing?" asked both the prisoners in a breath. "What's the matter with you?" added Archie, in some alarm, seeing that his cousin wore an exceedingly long face.

"Arthur Vane has just told Pierre that we had made up our minds to escape to-night," replied Frank.

"No!" exclaimed the boys, almost paralyzed by the information.

"It's a fact. After supper, we are to be bound hand and foot; and Arthur, to show how brave he is, and how cowardly we are, is going to resist, and Pierre has promised that his men shall not handle him roughly. O, you'll find out!" he continued, seeing that his friends looked incredulous. "I crept up behind that bowlder, and heard all about it. I did not understand all the conversation; but I know that Arthur is a traitor, and that we are indebted to him for our capture."

Archie and Johnny were utterly confounded. They could not find words strong enough to express their feelings. They sat on their blankets, and looked at each other in blank amazement. Presently, Arthur came in sight, and his appearance served to restore their power of action; and then, for the first time, they seemed to realize the full enormity of the offense of which he had been guilty. Archie jumped to his feet, and commenced pulling off his jacket.

"Fellows," said he, throwing down his sombrero, and rolling up his shirt-sleeves, "I'm going to pound some of the meanness out of him."

"And I'll help you!" exclaimed Johnny, excitedly. "Who ever heard of such a thing?" And Johnny brought his fist down into the palm of his hand, with a noise like the report of a pistol.

"Don't do it, boys!" interposed Frank. "Come here, Archie! Sit down, Johnny. He will be punished enough, when he gets back to the settlement. Let's cut him at once, and have nothing more to do with him. Johnny, put on your jacket! Behave yourself, Archie!"

Frank found it hard work to turn the two boys from their purpose. Their indignation had been thoroughly aroused, and, if Arthur had only known it, he was in a dangerous neighborhood. Although Frank was quite as angry as his friends, he had more prudence. He did not believe that they were the proper ones to execute vengeance upon their enemy. His punishment would come soon enough, and it would be quite as terrible as Arthur was able to bear. By dint of a good deal of coaxing, and pushing, and scolding, he finally got Archie and Johnny on their blankets again, and just then the traitor came up. His face wore a triumphant smile, that was exceedingly irritating to the three boys just then, and he approached them with as much assurance as though he had never in his life been guilty of a mean action.

"I have been out enjoying the cool breeze," said he, not noticing the angry glances that were directed toward him.

"Put it all in, while you are about it," exclaimed Johnny. "Say that you have been holding a consultation with Pierre, in regard to our escape to-night."

Arthur turned very red in the face, and took a step or two backward, as if Johnny had aimed a blow at him; and then, somewhat recovering himself, he opened his eyes, puckered up his lips, and looked from one to the other of his companions, with an expression of intense astonishment.

"How, now, Innocence!" exclaimed Archie. "You're a nice looking fellow. Go away from here."

"Why, boys," stammered Arthur, "I do not understand you. I have not seen Pierre"—

"Go away!" said Johnny, again rising to his feet—a movement that was instantly imitated by the pugnacious Archie.

"Can't you tell me what's the matter?" demanded Arthur, making a desperate effort to look unconcerned, and to call up some of that courage of which he had so often boasted.

"Have you got the impudence—the brass, to come to us, and ask what's the matter, after what you have done?" asked Archie, angrily. "We'll soon let you know what's"—

"Hold on, boys!" interrupted Frank, who saw that Archie's rage was in a fair way to get the better of him. "Johnny, stand back! Keep still, Archie! Go about your business, Arthur Vane! We know just what passed between you and Pierre, not five minutes ago, and we don't want to listen to any excuses or explanations."

"Explanations!" shouted Archie. "Excuses! for being a traitor!"

"Go over there among those yellow gentlemen," continued Frank. "You are their friend, and there's where you belong. Don't dare come near any of us again. Start!"

"Yes, start—mizzle—clear out!" roared Archie, getting angrier every moment. "Begone! Make yourself scarce about here!"

"Well, I think this is a nice way to treat a gentleman," growled Arthur, as he turned on his heel, and walked slowly away.

"Pick up that blanket and saddle," said Johnny. "Take all your plunder away from here, and remember that this side of the glade belongs to us."

"Yes, remember it—bear it in mind!" exclaimed Archie, who seemed to think it his duty to give emphasis to what the others said. "Think of it continually."

Arthur glared savagely upon Archie; but, fearing to irritate him and his friends further, by refusing to obey their commands, he shouldered his baggage, and walked sullenly toward the fire, around which the Rancheros were congregated, awaiting the summons to supper.

"Benedict Arnold!" said Johnny, as soon as the traitor was out of hearing.

Frank and Archie thought the name appropriate. It clung to Arthur as long as he remained in that part of California.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE ESCAPE.

Had the huge bowlder in the middle of the glade suddenly burst into a thousand fragments, it could scarcely have created greater consternation than that which filled our three heroes, when they stretched themselves on their blankets, to discuss the treachery of their companion. Of course, the first question that arose was, What object could he have in view? A dozen different opinions were advanced, but none of them were correct. The boys were all satisfied now, that no ransom was to be demanded for Arthur, and they were quite willing to believe that he expected to share in the sixty thousand dollars which Pierre hoped to receive for them. They never imagined that the traitor had been instigated by a desire to be revenged upon them, and that all that had happened to them during the day was the result of the incidents that had transpired during their ride to the old fur-trader's ranch.

"I really believe that Benedict Arnold belongs to this band of outlaws," said Frank. "If he does, that's all the good it will do him, as far as handling any of my uncle's money is concerned. It's lucky that we have found him out."

"It's unfortunate that we didn't find him out long ago," said Archie, who had by this time recovered his usual good nature.

"Our plans for escape are all knocked in the head for this night," continued Frank; "but we will hold ourselves in readiness to seize the first opportunity that is offered. Dick and Bob will be on our trail in a few hours."

At this moment, Pierre entered the glade from the side opposite the spring, and stopped to say a few words to the sentinel, who immediately approached the prisoners, and took his stand within a few paces of them.

"These villains must be afraid of us," said Frank, with a laugh.

"They'd better be," returned Johnny. "I wouldn't like to have sixty thousand dollars wrapped up in such slippery customers as we are."

"I wonder if Pierre thinks we can fly?" said Archie. "That's the only way I can see for getting out of here, while these robbers are all around us. I say, old fellow," he added, turning to the sentinel, "are you a good shot on the wing?"

The Ranchero shrugged his shoulders, and tapped his revolvers significantly.

"I judge from that you are a good shot on the wing," continued Archie. "Let me advise you to keep both eyes open; for the first thing you know, you'll see us disappearing over the tops of these mountains. Each of us has a patent, duplex, double-back-action flying-machine in his pocket."

Archie was going on to explain to the Ranchero the principles on which his imaginary flying-machine operated, when the call to supper interrupted him.

During the meal, the robbers were quite as polite as they had been at dinner. They gobbled up every thing within their reach, devouring it greedily, as though they feared that somebody might get more than his share, and the boys, having learned by experience, that, when one sojourns among Romans, it is a good plan to do as Romans do, snatched what they liked best, and ran back to their blankets.

"Look at Benedict," said Johnny, speaking as plainly as a mouthful of cracker would permit. "He's hot about something."

Arthur was sitting on the ground beside the robber chief, to whom he was talking earnestly, and even angrily, judging by the frantic manner in which he flourished his arms about his head, and struck with his fists at the empty air. Pierre was listening attentively, and so were all the other members of the band, who appeared to be deeply interested in what he was saying. Arthur had told the chief that his secret was discovered, and Pierre had urged him to use every exertion to allay the suspicions of the boys.

"You don't know them as well as I do," said the Ranchero; "and, if you will take my advice, you will try to make friends with them again."

"That's something I'll never do," said Arthur, decidedly. "Shall a gentleman's son stoop to beg the good-will of a lot of young Arabs? Not if he knows himself; and he thinks he does. They have found me out, somehow, and I don't care if they have. I may as well throw off the mask entirely. I'll let them see that, while they are prisoners, and bound hand and foot, I am at liberty to go and come when I please."

When Arthur said this, he was gazing into the fire, and consequently did not see the significant glances which the robber chief exchanged with his men. It might have astonished him to know that he was not free to go and come when he pleased; and that Pierre, in spite of all his promises to the contrary, intended to demand twenty thousand dollars for him, as well as for the others.

When Frank and his friends had eaten their supper, they began to make preparations for the night, by collecting a pile of dried leaves and grass, over which they spread their blankets, placing the saddles at the head of the bed, to serve as pillows. When the couch was completed, it was very inviting, and, had it not been for the knowledge of the fact that they were to be bound hand and foot, they would have been sure of a good night's rest.

Frank could not go to bed without visiting Roderick. He found the horse standing quietly by the spring, and when he saw his master approaching, he raised his head and welcomed him with a shrill neigh.

"O, if we could only get half a minute's start of these robbers!" said Frank, patting the animal's glossy neck, "wouldn't we show them a clean pair of heels? They'd never have us prisoners again, I bet."

Frank emphasized the last word by punching Roderick in the ribs with his thumb—an action which caused the animal to lay back his ears, and kick viciously, with both feet, at some imaginary object behind him.

When our hero returned to the place where he had left Archie and Johnny, he saw them lying on their beds securely bound. Pierre stood close by, with a lasso in his hand, and, when Frank came up, he greeted him with a fierce scowl, and, in a savage tone of voice, commanded him to cross his arms behind his back. Frank obeyed, and the Ranchero, while he was busy confining him, inquired:

"Do you remember what I said to you at noon?"

"About what?" asked Frank.

"About making scare-crows of you and your friends, if my messenger does not return at daylight."

"I believe I do remember something about it."

"Then why did you advise your uncle to detain him? You must be tired of life. You told Mr. Winters to send those rascally trappers up here, with a party of men, to capture us."

"Now, see here, Pierre," exclaimed Frank, angrily, "Dick and Bob are not rascals. They are honest men, and what they own, they have worked hard for. They will be up here—you may depend upon that—and, if Dick once gets his hands on you"—

"O, won't he shake him up, though!" cried Archie, from his blanket. "I wouldn't be in Pierre's shoes then for all the money he will ever get for us."

"You may make up your minds to one thing," said the chief; "and that is, if so much as a hair of that messenger's head is harmed, you will be swinging from some of these trees at sunrise."

"That is a soothing story to tell to a person who is trying to go to sleep," observed Johnny.

"You can't make us believe that you would throw away sixty thousand dollars," said Frank. "Be careful," he added, as Pierre, after confining his arms with one end of the lasso, began to wind the other around his ankles; "make those knots secure, or I may get away from you again."

"I'll risk that. Now, good-night, and pleasant dreams to you."

The robber lifted Frank in his arms, and laid him upon his blanket, as if he had been a sack of flour, and then walked off, leaving his prisoners to their meditations. Scarcely had he disappeared, when Arthur, who had stood at a little distance, watching the operations of the chief, came up, and, after regarding the three boys a moment with a smile of triumph, inquired:

"How do you feel now? I hope you will enjoy a good night's rest. You see I am at liberty." And he stretched out his arms, to show that they were not confined.

"Of course," said Frank. "You ought to be; you are one of Pierre's band. We are under obligations to you for what you have done for us."

"How did you find it out?" asked Arthur.

"Why, one of those Arabs you used to know in Patagonia, came up here, and told us how you acted while you were in that country, and we thought it best to keep an eye on you," answered Archie.

"See here, Benedict," said Johnny. "Have you forgotten that we told you to keep your distance?"

"No; but I generally go where I please," replied Arthur.

"You have done something worth boasting of, haven't you?"

"Well—yes; but I am not done with you yet. If I have any influence with Pierre—and I think I have—you'll not see home for a year—perhaps longer."

"Pierre! Pierre!" shouted Archie, suddenly. "I say, Pierre!"

"Well, what's the row?" asked that worthy, from his bed by the fire.

"I'll make you a present of my horse, if you will give me my liberty for just two minutes. Will you do it?"

"I guess not," replied the robber.

"I promise you that I will not attempt any tricks," pleaded Archie. "I only want to show Benedict something. Come, Pierre, that's a good fellow."

The Ranchero laughed, and turned over on his blanket, without making any answer, and Archie, being satisfied that it was useless to urge the matter, laid his head upon his hard pillow, and looked indignantly at the traitor.

"Never mind," said he. "I'll be unbound to-morrow morning, and I'll know how to get up an appetite for breakfast."

Arthur understood what the prisoner meant by getting up an appetite for breakfast, and it made him angry. He was very brave, now. His three enemies were lying before him unable to defend themselves, and it was a fine opportunity to execute vengeance upon them. He suddenly took it into his head that it would be a nice thing to punish them all, beginning with the one who had first excited his animosity.

"Hold on, you little Yankee," said he. "I'll attend to you in a minute. Johnny Harris, what was that name you applied to me?"

"It was a new one we have given you," answered Johnny. "We have called you after the meanest man that ever lived—Benedict Arnold. Do you know him? Did you ever meet him while you were hunting lions and tigers in Europe?"

Frank and his cousin laughed loudly, which so enraged Arthur that he caught up a stick, that happened to be lying near him, and struck Johnny a severe blow with it.

"O, you coward!" shouted Archie, struggling frantically to free his arms. "What do you mean by hitting a man when he is down, and can't move hand or foot?"

The traitor turned fiercely upon Archie, and was about to use the stick upon him, when the gruff voice of the sentinel arrested his hand. The Ranchero pointed toward the fire, and Arthur, understanding the motion, threw down the stick, and walked away, shaking his head, and muttering to himself.

"He had better keep close to his friends to-morrow," said Johnny, his face all wrinkled up with pain.

The other boys thought so too. Each one of them had rather that Arthur had struck him instead of Johnny; for the latter, although high-spirited, and inclined to be belligerent under provocation, was a good-natured, accommodating fellow, who gained hosts of friends wherever he went, and who never hesitated to make any sacrifice for the benefit of others. Frank had never before witnessed such an exhibition of cowardly vindictiveness, and he was almost sorry that he had protected Arthur.

The traitor, well satisfied with what he had done, and only regretting that he had been interrupted before his revenge was complete, spread his blanket beside the chief; and, after that, nothing happened for a long time to disturb the silence of the camp. The Rancheros were soon in a sound sleep, even including Antoine Mercedes, the sentinel, who sat with his back against a tree, his head hung down upon his breast and his right hand, which rested on the ground beside him, grasping a revolver. He had been placed there by his chief to watch the prisoners; but, believing that there was little danger of their escape, and being unwilling to be deprived of his usual rest, he had gone to sleep as soon as the others. The boys, however, were wide awake. The exciting events of the day, and the pain occasioned by their bonds, effectually banished sleep from their eyes, and they passed the long hours in pondering upon what Arthur had done, and trying in vain to find a comfortable position on their blankets. Johnny, especially, was very restless. He lay for a long time watching the sentinel, and thinking how easily he and his companions could effect their escape, if their hands and feet were free; then he wondered if Pierre was in earnest, when he said that he would make "scare-crows" of them if his messenger did not return by daylight; and, finally, he turned over, and tried, for the hundredth time, to go to sleep.

The fire, which was still burning brightly, lighted up every corner of the glade, and, from the new position in which he lay, Johnny could see how Archie's arms were bound. They were crossed behind his back, and the lasso was wrapped twice around them, and tied in a square knot—a single glance at which drove all thoughts of sleep out of Johnny's mind, and suggested to him the idea of an attempt to liberate his friend. The knot, on account of the stiffness of the lasso, had not been drawn very tight, and Johnny thought he had hit upon a plan to untie it.

"Archie," he whispered, excitedly.

"Hallo!" was the response.

"Are you asleep?"

"No; nor am I likely to be to-night," growled Archie. "This lasso hurts me dreadfully. Pierre drew it as tight as he could."

"Don't talk so loud," whispered Johnny. "Keep your eyes on that sentinel, and, if he moves, shake your arms."

"What for?" demanded Archie. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know that I can do any thing; but I am going to try."

"All right; go ahead."

Johnny took a long look at the Ranchero, to make sure that he was sound asleep, and then, rolling up close to Archie, he went to work with his teeth to untie the lasso, with which the latter's arms were bound. This was not so easy a task as he had imagined it would be; but the knot yielded a little with every pull he made upon it, and, after ten minutes hard work, Johnny rolled back upon his blanket with an expression of great satisfaction upon his countenance, and watched his friend as he unwound the lariat with which his feet were confined.

"Hurrah for you, Johnny!" whispered Archie, a moment afterward. "We'll out-wit these greasers yet. Hold easy, now, and I'll soon give you the free use of your hands and feet."

Archie's fingers made quick work with Johnny's bonds, and, when he had untied his arms, he left him to do the rest, and turned to release his cousin. This he soon accomplished, and then the three boys, astonished at their success, crept up closer together, to hold a consultation.

"Lead on Frank, and we'll follow," said Johnny.

"I will do the best I can," replied Frank. "Let's stick together as long as possible; but, if we are discovered, we must separate, and let each man take of himself. Remember, now, the one that reaches home must not sleep soundly until the others are rescued."

As Frank said this, he threw himself flat upon the ground, and crawled slowly and noiselessly through the grass, toward the ledge by which they had entered the glade in the morning. They passed the sentinel without arousing him, and approached the fire around which lay the stalwart forms of the Rancheros, who snored lustily, in blissful ignorance of what was going on close by them.

The boys' hearts beat high with hope as they neared the ledge, and Johnny was in the very act of reaching over to give Frank an approving slap on the back, when the movement was arrested by a loud yawn behind him. This was followed by an ejaculation of astonishment, and, an instant afterward, the report of a pistol rang through the glade. The sentinel had just awakened from his sleep, and discovered that the prisoners' blankets were empty.

"Help! help!" he shouted, in stentorian tones, discharging another barrel of his revolver, to arouse his companions. "Pierre, your birds have flown!"

"Run now, fellows!" whispered Frank, and, suiting the action to the word, he jumped up, and took to his heels.



CHAPTER XVII.

THE STRUGGLE ON THE CLIFF.

As we have before remarked, the place in which the Rancheros had made their camp was a natural recess in the mountains. It was surrounded on three sides by rocky cliffs, the tops of which seemed to pierce the clouds, and whose sides were so steep that a goat could scarcely have found footing thereon. In front of the glade was the gorge, the sight of which had so terrified Arthur Vane, and which was so deep that the roar of the mountain torrent, that ran through it, could be but faintly heard by one standing on the cliffs above.

There were three ways to get out of the glade: one was by the narrow ledge of rocks by which the Rancheros and their captives had entered it in the morning; another was by a path on the opposite side of the glade, which also ran along the very brink of the precipice; the third was by climbing up the cliffs to the dizzy heights above. These avenues of escape were all more or less dangerous, and one unaccustomed to traveling in the mountains would have been at a loss to decide which to take. Indeed, a very timid boy would have preferred to remain a prisoner among the Rancheros, as long as he was sure of kind treatment and plenty to eat, rather than risk any of them. If he took either of the paths that ran along the chasm, he would require the skill of a rope-dancer to cross it in safety; for they were both narrow and slippery, and a single misstep in the darkness would launch him into eternity. If he tried to scale the mountains, which, in some places, overhung the glade, he would be in equal danger; for he might, at any moment, lose his balance, and come tumbling back again.

Frank and his two friends had thought of all these things during the day, and they knew just what perils they were likely to encounter; but they were not formidable enough to turn them from their purpose. While they were crawling cautiously through the grass, they had been allowed ample time to make up their minds what they would do, if their flight should be discovered before they got out of the glade; and, consequently, when the yells of the sentinel, and the reports of his pistol, told them that the pursuit was about to begin, they did not hesitate, but proceeded at once to carry out the plans they had formed. Archie, the moment he jumped to his feet, darted toward the cliffs, while Frank and Johnny ran for the ledge by which they had entered the pass in the morning; and, by the time the Rancheros were fairly awake, their prisoners had disappeared as completely as though they had never been in the glade at all.

Archie had chosen the most difficult way of escape, and he had done so with an object. He believed that, as soon as Pierre and his band became aroused, they would rush in a body for the path that led toward the settlement; and Archie did not like the idea of running a race through the darkness along the brink of that precipice. He might make a misstep, and fall into the gorge, and that would be infinitely worse than remaining a prisoner. His enemies, he thought, would not be likely to follow him up the cliffs; but if they did, and he found that he could not distance them, there were plenty of excellent hiding-places among the bushes and rocks, where he could remain in perfect security, with an army searching for him. Johnny and Frank did not look at the matter in that way. They thought not of concealment; they took the nearest and easiest way home, and trusted entirely to their heels.

"Help! help!" shouted the sentinel, discharging the barrels of his revolver in quick succession. "The boys have gone!"

For a moment, great confusion reigned in the camp. The Rancheros sprang to their feet, and hurried hither and thither, each one asking questions, and giving orders, to which nobody paid the least attention, and the babel of English and Spanish that arose awoke the echoes far and near. The chief was the only one who seemed to know what ought to be done. He examined the beds to satisfy himself that the prisoners had really gone, and then his voice was heard above the tumult, commanding silence.

The first thing he did, when quiet had been restored, was to swear lustily at the sentinel, for allowing the prisoners to escape, and then he set about making preparations for pursuit. He sent two of the band on foot down the path that led toward the settlement, another he ordered to saddle the horses, and the rest he commanded to search every nook and corner of the glade.

As long as the noise continued, Archie worked industriously; and, being a very active fellow, he got up the mountain at an astonishing rate. But as soon as the chief had succeeded in restoring order, he sat down to recover his breath, and to wait until the Rancheros left the glade: for he was fearful that the noise he necessarily made, in working his way through the thick bushes, might direct his enemies in their search.

Although it was pitch dark on the mountainside, Archie could tell exactly what was going on below him. He knew when the two men left the glade, chuckled to himself when he heard the Ranchero, who had been ordered to saddle the horses, growl at the restive animals, and noted the movements of the party who were searching the bushes. He distinctly heard their voices, and he knew that Arthur Vane was with them.

"Do you think they will get away, Joaquin?" he heard the traitor ask.

"That's hard to tell," was the reply. "It depends a good deal upon how long they have been gone. If they get back to the settlement, you had better keep away from there."

"That's so," said Archie, to himself.

"They'll never reach the settlement if I can help it," declared Arthur. "If I get my eyes on one of them, I bet he don't escape. I'll take him prisoner."

Perhaps we shall find that Arthur did "get his eyes on one of them," and we shall see how he kept his promise.

The party went entirely around the glade, passing directly beneath Archie, who held himself in readiness to continue his flight, should they begin to ascend the cliff, and finally one of them called out:

"They're not here, Pierre."

"Mount, then, every one of you," exclaimed the chief. "When you reach the end of the pass, scatter out and search the mountains, thoroughly. Antoine, we have to thank you for the loss of a fortune, you idiot."

Archie heard the Ranchero mutter an angry reply, and then came the tramping of horses as the band rode from the glade. In a few seconds the sound died away in the pass, and the fugitive was left alone. His first impulse was to descend into the glade, mount Sleepy Sam, and follow the robbers. Archie could ride the animal without saddle or bridle as well as he could with them; and he was sure that if he could get but a few feet the start of the Rancheros, his favorite could easily distance them. But he remembered the chief's order for the band to "scatter out," and knowing that every path that led toward the settlement would be closely guarded, and fearing that he might run against some of his enemies in the dark, he decided that the safest plan was to remain upon the cliffs, where he could not be followed by mounted men. It cost him a struggle to abandon his horse, which was galloping about the glade, and neighing disconsolately, but he wisely concluded that twenty thousand dollars were worth more to his uncle than Sleepy Sam was to him; and drawing in a long breath, he tightened his sash about his waist, and again began the ascent.

His progress was necessarily slow and laborious, for, in some places, the cliff was quite perpendicular, and the only way he could advance at all, was by drawing himself up by the grass and bushes that grew out of the crevices of the rocks. Sometimes these gave way beneath his weight, and then Archie would descend the mountain for a short distance much more rapidly than he had gone up. He was often badly bruised by these falls. The bushes and the sharp points of the rocks tore his clothing, and it was not long before he was as ragged as any beggar he had ever seen in the streets of his native city.

"By gracious!" exclaimed Archie, stopping for the hundredth time to rest, and feeling of a severe bruise on his cheek which he had received in his last fall, "I am completely tired out. And this is all the work of that Benedict Arnold! Didn't I say that we should see trouble with that fellow? If I were out on clear ground, and had my horse and gun, I'd be willing to forgive him for what he has done to me, but I'll always remember that he struck Johnny over the head, when he was tied, and could not defend himself."

Wiping the big drops of perspiration from his forehead, and panting loudly after his violent exertions, Archie again toiled up the mountain, so weary that he could scarcely drag one foot after the other. He stumbled over logs, fell upon the rocks, and dragged himself through bushes that cut into his tattered garments like a knife. Hour after hour passed in this way, and, finally, just as the sun was rising, Archie, faint with thirst, aching in every joint, and bleeding from numerous wounds, stepped upon a broad, flat bowlder, which formed the summit of the cliff.

On his right, between him and a huge rock that rose for fifty feet without a single break or crevice, was a narrow but deep chasm which ran down the cliff he had just ascended, and into which he had more than once been in imminent danger of falling as he stumbled about in the darkness. Far below him was the glade, a thin wreath of smoke rising from the smouldering camp-fire, and on his left was the gorge, a hundred times more frightful in his eyes now than it had ever seemed before. In front of him the mountain sloped gently down to the valley below, its base clothed with a thick wood, which at that height looked like an unbroken mass of green sward, and beyond that, so far away that it could be but dimly seen, was a broad expanse of prairie, from which arose the whitewashed walls of his uncle's rancho. It was a view that would have put an artist into ecstasies, but the fugitive was in no mood to appreciate it. He had no eye for the beauties of nature then—he had other things to think of; and he regarded the picturesque mountains and rocks, and the luxuriant woods, as so many grim monsters that stood between him and his home.

But Archie could not remain long inactive. After all the dangers he had incurred, and the bruises and scratches he had received, he had accomplished but little. He was still thirty miles from home, hungry and thirsty, and pursued by crafty enemies, who might even then be watching him from some secret covert.

"Oh, if I were only there!" said he, casting a longing glance toward the rancho, whose inmates, just then sitting down to a dainty breakfast, little dreamed how much good a small portion of their bounty would have done the fugitive on the mountain-top. "But, as the rancho can't come to me, I must go to it."

Archie found the descent of the mountain comparatively easy. There were not so many bushes and logs to impede his progress, the slope was more gradual, and he had not gone more than half a mile when he found a cool spring bubbling out from under the rocks. He bathed his hands and face, drank a little of the water, and when he set out again he felt much refreshed. He followed the course of the stream, which ran from the spring down the mountain, keeping a bright lookout for enemies all the while, and stopping now and then to listen for sounds of pursuit, when suddenly, as he came around the base of a rock, he found himself on the brink of the gorge, and confronted by a figure in buckskin, who stood leaning on a long, double-barrel shot-gun. Archie started back in dismay, and so did the boy in buckskin, who turned pale, and gazed at the fugitive as if he were hardly prepared to believe that he was a human being. He speedily recovered himself, however, and after he had let down the hammer of his gun, which he had cocked when the ragged apparition first came in sight, he dropped the butt of the weapon to the ground, exclaiming:

"Archie Winters!"

"Benedict Arnold!"

For a moment the two boys stood looking at each other without moving or speaking. Archie was wondering if it were possible for him to effect the capture of the traitor, and Arthur, while he gazed in astonishment at the fugitive's tattered garments and bloody face, was chuckling to himself, and enjoying beforehand the punishment he had resolved to inflict upon Archie. The opportunity he had wished for so long had arrived at last.

"I have found you, have I?" said Arthur, resting his elbows on the muzzle of his gun, and looking at Archie with a triumphant smile.

"Well, suppose you have; what do you propose to do about it?"

"It is my intention to teach you to respect a gentleman the next time you meet one."



"How are you going to do it?"

"In the first place, by giving you a good beating."

"Humph!" said Archie, contemptuously, looking at Arthur from head to foot, as if he were taking his exact measure. "It requires a boy with considerable 'get up' about him to do that."

"None of your impudence, you little Yankee," exclaimed Arthur, angrily. "I'm going to take some of it out of you before you are two minutes older."

When the traitor selected Archie as the one upon whom he could wreak his vengeance without danger to himself, he had made a great mistake. Archie was smaller than most boys of his age, but, after all, he was an antagonist not to be despised. He was courageous, active, and as wiry as an eel; and his body, hardened by all sorts of violent exercise, was as tough as hickory. He trembled a little when he looked over into the gorge, and thought of the possible consequences of an encounter on that cliff, but he was not the one to save himself by taking to his heels, nor did it come natural to him to stand still and take a whipping as long as he possessed the strength to defend himself. A single glance was enough to convince him that the traitor was in earnest, and Archie watched the opportunity to begin the struggle himself.

"Yes, sir," continued Arthur, "I've got you now just where I want you. I am going to settle this little difference between us, and then I shall take you back to Pierre. If you have any apologies to make, I am willing to listen to them."

The effect of these words not a little astonished the traitor. He had been sure that Archie would be terribly frightened, and that he would either seek safety in flight, or beg hard for mercy; consequently, he was not prepared for what really happened. Scarcely had Arthur ceased speaking, when the place where Archie was standing became suddenly vacant, and, before the traitor could move a finger, his gun was torn from his grasp and pitched over the cliff into the gorge. As the weapon fell whirling through the air, both barrels were discharged, and the reports awoke a thousand echoes, which reverberated among the mountains like peals of thunder.

"Now we are on equal terms," exclaimed Archie, as he clasped the traitor around the body and attempted to throw him to the ground. "You remember that you struck Johnny last night, when he was bound, hand and foot, and couldn't defend himself, don't you?"

"Yes; and now I am going to serve you worse than that," replied Arthur, who, although surprised and taken at great disadvantage by the suddenness of the attack, struggled furiously, and to such good purpose that he very soon broke Archie's hold; "I am going to fling you over the cliff after that gun."

The contest that followed was carried on on the very edge of the precipice, and was long and desperate. Archie, bruised and battered in a hundred places, and weary with a night's travel, was scarcely a match for the fresh and vigorous Arthur, who, in his blind rage, seemed determined to fulfill his threat of throwing him over the cliff after the gun. Fortune favored first one and then the other; but Archie's indomitable courage and long wind carried the day, and he finally succeeded in bearing his antagonist to the ground and holding him there.

"You are not going to throw me over, are you?" gasped Arthur, who was humble enough, now that he had been worsted.

"Do you take me for a savage?" panted Archie, in reply. "I simply wanted to save myself from a whipping that I did not deserve, and I've done it. Now you must go to the settlement with me, to"—

"Here you are!" exclaimed a familiar voice. "Let us see if you will escape me again."

Archie looked up, and saw Antoine Mercedes advancing upon him.



CHAPTER XVIII.

CONCLUSION.

Archie had been so fully occupied with the traitor that he had not thought of his other enemies, and for a moment he lay upon the ground beside his antagonist, gazing at Antoine in speechless amazement. Resistance, of course, was not to be thought of, and it also seemed useless to make any attempts at escape; for he had been so nearly exhausted by his struggle with Arthur, that he scarcely possessed the power to rise from the ground. "I am caught easy enough," thought he, "and I might as well give up first as last."

"I see before me twenty thousand dollars," said Antoine, hastily coiling up his lasso as he approached.

These words acted like a spur upon Archie's flagging spirits. He no longer thought of surrender: on the contrary, almost before he knew it, he found himself on his feet and going down the mountain like the wind.

"Carrajo!" yelled the Ranchero, swinging his lasso around his head.

Archie was afraid of that lasso, for he knew that he was in danger as long as he was within reach of it; but fortunately he had been too quick for Antoine. He heard the lariat whistle through the air behind him, and snap like a whip close to his ear, and then he knew that his enemy had missed his mark.

"Santa Maria!" shouted the robber. "Stop, you young vagabond, or I'll shoot you."

The fugitive was not frightened by this threat. He was not afraid of being shot, nor did he believe that he could be overtaken in a fair race; for, now that he got started, he found that he had wind enough left for a long run. He had lived among the Rancheros long enough to know that they were very poor marksmen, and that they could not boast of their swiftness of foot; and, having escaped the lasso, his spirits rose again, and hope lent him wings. He heard Antoine crushing through the bushes in pursuit, but the sound grew fainter and fainter as he sped on his way. He jumped over rocks and logs, and cleared ravines that at almost any other time would have effectually checked his progress, and when he reached the thick woods at the base of the mountains, the Ranchero was out of sight and hearing.

Archie was well aware of the fact that he had now reached the most dangerous part of his route homeward. The chief had ordered the band to "scatter out" when they reached the end of the pass, and he knew that every road that led toward the settlement was closely watched. He knew, also, that his only chance for escape was to avoid these roads and keep in the thickest part of the woods. He sat down behind some bushes to rest for a few moments, and then started on again, sometimes creeping on his hands and knees, making use of every log and rock to cover his retreat, and stopping frequently to examine the woods in front of him, and to listen for sounds of pursuit. He had accomplished about a mile in this way, when he found himself in one of the numerous bridle-paths that ran through the mountains in every direction, and, what was worse, he saw the scowling visage of Pierre Costello arise from behind a log not ten paces from him. With the same glance he saw something else; and that was a crouching figure in buckskin, which was creeping stealthily toward the robber.

"Here's one caught," said Pierre, stepping into the path and walking toward Archie. "None of your tricks, now; you can't escape."

"I don't intend to try," replied Archie, with a boldness that astonished the robber. "Your game is up, Mr. Pierre, and I advice you to surrender quietly, if you don't want to get hurt!"

"What!" exclaimed the Ranchero. "Surrender! If you know what you are about, you will not offer any resistance. I am a desperate man."

The robber spoke these words boldly enough, but he evidently did not like the looks of things. He gazed earnestly at Archie, as if trying to determine what it was that had encouraged him to show so bold a front, and seeing that he held one hand behind him, Pierre came to the conclusion that he must, by some means, have secured possession of a revolver.

"Drop that weapon, and hold your arms above your head," said the robber.

Archie did not move. While he appeared to be looking steadily at the chief, he was really watching the movements of the figure in buckskin, which had all this while been working its way quickly, but noiselessly, through the bushes, and had now approached within a few feet of the Ranchero.

"Did you hear what I said?" demanded the latter, placing his hand on one of his revolvers. "You are my prisoner."

"Well, then, why don't you come and take me?" asked Archie.

At this moment a slight rustling in the leaves caught the quick ear of the robber, who turned suddenly, uttered a cry of alarm, and fled down the path, closely followed by something that to Archie looked like a gray streak, so swiftly did it move. But it was not a gray streak—it was Dick Lewis, who, after a few of his long strides, collared the Ranchero with one hand and threw him to the ground, and with the other seized the revolver he was trying to draw, and wrested it from his grasp. Pierre struggled desperately, but to no purpose, for the trapper handled him as easily as though he had been a child.

"Now, then, you tarnal Greaser," exclaimed Dick, "your jig's danced, an' you must settle with the fiddler. If I only had you out on the prairie, I'd larn you a few things I reckon you never heern tell on. Come here, you keerless feller, an' tell me if you 'member what I said to you yesterday! Whar's Frank?"

Before Archie had time to reply, an incident happened, which, had the trapper been a less experienced man than he was, would have turned his triumph into defeat very suddenly. He had more than one enemy to contend with, and the first intimation he had of the fact, was a sound that Archie had heard so often since his residence in California that it had become familiar to him—the whistling noise made by a lariat in its passage through the air. Before Archie could look around to discover whence this new danger came, he saw the trapper stretched at full length on the ground. For an instant his heart stood still; but it was only for an instant, for Dick was on his feet again immediately, and Archie drew a long breath of relief when he saw the lasso, which he feared had settled around his friend's neck, glide harmlessly over his shoulder. The trapper, from force of long habit, was always on the watch for danger, and when he heard that whistling sound in the air, he did not stop to look for his enemy, but dropped like a flash to avoid the lasso; and when he arose to his feet his long rifle was leveled at a thicket of bushes in front of him.

"Show yourself, Greaser!" cried Dick.

The concealed enemy obeyed without an instant's hesitation, and when he stepped into the path, Archie saw that it was Antoine Mercedes.

"Thar's nothin' like knowin' the tricks of the varmints," said Dick, coolly, as he handed his rifle to Archie, and proceeded to disarm Antoine. "If I had been a greenhorn, I should have been well-nigh choked to death by this time; but a man who has seed prairy life, soon larns that his ears was made for use as well as his eyes. Now, little un, whar's the rest of them fellers?"

While the trapper was engaged in confining his prisoners' arms with their own lassos, Archie gave him a rapid account of all that had happened during his captivity, dwelling with a good deal of emphasis on the treachery of Arthur Vane. Dick opened his eyes in astonishment, and, when Archie had finished his story, declared that they would be serving Arthur right if they were to leave him among the robbers.

"Why, he doesn't want to get away from them," said Archie. "He is with them now, hunting for us. He and I had a fight not half an hour ago, and, if Antoine had only stayed away a few minutes longer, Arthur would have been a prisoner too."

At this moment, a party of Rancheros galloped up, led by Uncle James and Mr. Harris, and accompanied by the dogs, which the boys—who had intended to devote the most of their time to stalking the elks, which were abundant in the mountains—had left at home. Marmion and Carlo made every demonstration of joy at seeing Archie once more, and Mr. Winters greeted him as though he had not met him for years.

Without any unnecessary delay, a trusty herdsman was dismounted, and sent back to the ranch with the prisoners, and Archie mounted his horse.

"You had better go home," said Mr. Winters, looking at his nephew's rags and bruises.

"Oh no, uncle," said Archie, quickly. "I promised Frank and Johnny that, if I succeeded in getting away, I wouldn't sleep until they were safe among friends. I want to go with you."

Uncle James did not urge the matter, and Dick, although he shook his head at Archie, and called him a "keerless feller," was proud of his pluck.

The trapper, who was the acknowledged leader of the party, set out at a rapid trot toward the pass, but had not gone far, when he stopped, and turned his head on one side to listen. "Spread out, fellers," said he, waving his hand toward the bushes on each side of him. "Thar's something comin'."

The horsemen separated, and took up their positions on each side of the path. They could hear nothing but the chirping of the birds, and the sighing of the wind through the branches above their heads; but they had not been long in their concealments before they found that Dick had not been deceived. The clatter of a horse's hoofs on the hard path, faint and far off at first, but growing louder as the animal approached, came to their ears, and presently Roderick appeared in sight. The first thing Archie noticed was, that he wore neither saddle nor bridle; the second, that he carried Frank and Johnny on his back. One of Frank's hands was twisted in the horse's mane, and his body was tightly clasped in the arms of Johnny, who sat behind him. Archie had never seen the mustang run so swiftly before, and he made up his mind that, if any of the Rancheros were pursuing him, they might as well give up the chase. He also thought that Frank and Johnny would enjoy a long ride before they got a chance to put their feet on the ground again; for Roderick was plainly stampeded. It was fortunate that Dick had sent them into the bushes; for, had the party been in the path then, some of them would have been run down, and, perhaps, trampled to death.

"Out of the way there, Greaser!" shouted Frank, when he discovered the trapper standing in the path.

Dick was not a Greaser; but he thought it best to get out of the way; and Frank would have gone by him, had not Carlo and Marmion recognized their masters, and set up a howl of welcome.

"Whoa!" shouted Johnny and Frank, in concert, and Roderick stopped so suddenly that both his riders were thrown forward on his neck.

"Come here, you boy that fit that ar' Greaser, an' tell me all about it, to onct," exclaimed Dick. "Be they follerin' you?"

"Not that we know of. We haven't seen any of them since daylight. Lend me your lasso, Carlos, and we'll go back and hunt up Archie."

But Archie was already found, and when he rode out of the bushes, Frank was relieved of a great deal of anxiety. He had not seen his cousin since he left the glade, and he feared that he had been re-captured; or, what was worse, had slipped off the ledge into the gorge.

A consultation was now held, and, after Uncle James and Mr. Harris had listened to the boys' story, they decided that it would be a waste of time to search for Arthur Vane. The latter's conduct had induced the belief that he was a friend of the robbers, and could go and come when he pleased. No doubt, when he got tired of life in the mountains, he would return home of his own free will. The party would keep on to the glade, however, and recover Sleepy Sam, and the boys' weapons. When this had been decided upon, Dick's horse, which he had hidden in the bushes, was brought out for Johnny, a lasso was twisted around Roderick's lower jaw, to serve as a bridle, and then the trapper shouldered his long rifle, and gave another exhibition of his "travelin' qualities." He kept the horses in a steady gallop, sometimes "letting out" a little on getting far in advance of them, and, when he stopped at the entrance to the pass, he seemed as fresh as ever.

The boys had expressed the hope that they would surprise some of the robbers in the glade, but were disappointed. They found their saddles, bridles, blankets, and weapons, however, and Archie recovered his horse, which was standing contentedly beside the spring, half asleep, as usual. Every thing was gathered up, including a few articles the robbers had left behind, and, as they rode toward the settlement, the boys told each other that the next time they went hunting, after Pierre's band had all been captured, they would camp in the glade.

Archie was confined to the house for a day or two after that; but, if his body was stiff and bruised, his tongue was all right, and it was a long time before he got through relating the incidents of his fight with the traitor.

Frank and Johnny had met with no adventures, not having seen any of the band after they left the glade. They crossed the ledge without accident—although they confessed that they would think twice before trying it again—and, when they reached the end of the pass, they concealed themselves in a hollow log until morning. When they were about to continue their flight, they discovered the mustang, which, unwilling to be left alone in the glade, had crossed the ledge, and was on his way home. Frank easily caught him; but, knowing his favorite's disposition as well as he did, hesitated about requiring him to carry double; however, he finally decided that Roderick was large enough and strong enough to carry them both, and that he must do it, or take the consequences. Frank thereupon mounted the animal, Johnny climbed up behind him, and Roderick, after a few angry kicks, consented to the arrangement. Believing the boldest course to be the safest, they put the horse to the top of his speed, trusting to his momentum to overcome any thing that might endeavor to obstruct the path.

While Archie was confined to the house, Dick and old Bob were busy, and their efforts were rewarded by the capture of three more of the band, who were sent to San Diego with the others. Only one was left now, and that was Joaquin, who had thus far successfully eluded pursuit. The traitor was also missing; and, although Mr. Vane kept his herdsmen in the mountains continually, nothing had been seen of him. Arthur was paying the penalty of his treachery, and was being punished in a way he had not thought of. After his unsuccessful attempt to capture Archie Winters, he went down the mountain to the place where he had left his horse, and there he found Joaquin, who had narrowly escaped a ball from the rifle of old Bob Kelly. He was in ill-humor about something, but his face brightened when he discovered Arthur.

"We must be off at once," said he. "The mountains are full of men."

"I believe I'll go home," replied Arthur. "I am going to ask my father to give me money enough to take me back to Kentucky; for, of course, I can't live here after what I have done. Before I go, however, I want to tell you, that you and your friends are a set of blockheads. If I had known that you would be so stupid as to allow those fellows to escape, I shouldn't have had any thing to do with you. Good-by, Joaquin."

"Not quite so fast, my lad," said the Ranchero, seizing Arthur's horse by the bridle. "You are worth as much to us as the others."

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Arthur.

"I mean that you are a prisoner, and that you must stay here with us. I hope you understand that?"

Arthur was thunderstruck. "Why, Joaquin," said he, "Pierre promised me faithfully that I should be treated as a visitor, and that no ransom should be demanded for me."

"And did you put any faith in that promise? When your father gives us twenty thousand dollars, you can go, and not before."

Arthur cried, begged, and threatened in vain. Joaquin was firm, and the traitor was obliged to accompany him to the mountains. That night he wrote to his father, informing him of his situation, and Joaquin, after tying his prisoner to a tree, and gagging him, to prevent him from shouting for assistance, rode to the settlement, and left the note on Mr. Vane's door-step.

During the three weeks following, Arthur led a most miserable life. He had nothing to eat but dried meat, and but little of that. His captor treated him very harshly, tying him to a tree every night, to prevent his escape, and moving him about in the day-time, from place to place, to avoid capture. It soon became known in the settlement, that Arthur was held as a prisoner, and the search was conducted with redoubled energy. Joaquin was constantly on the alert, but he was caught at last; for, one day, just as he and Arthur were about to sit down to their dinner of dried meat, Frank, Archie, and Johnny suddenly appeared in sight, accompanied by the two trappers. Archie had repeatedly declared that he owed the traitor a debt, which he intended to settle the very first time he met him; but when he saw what a wretched condition Arthur was in, he relented, and pitied him from the bottom of his heart.

Joaquin was sent to San Diego to be dealt with according to law, and Arthur went home. He did not remain there long; but, as soon as he was able to travel, started for Kentucky, and every one was glad that he had gone.

Frank and Archie could tell stories now that were worth listening to. They had seen exciting times since their arrival in California, had been the heroes of some thrilling adventures, and they never got weary of talking over the incidents that transpired during their captivity AMONG THE RANCHEROS.

THE END.



THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'S POPULAR JUVENILES.

J.T. TROWBRIDGE.

Neither as a writer does he stand apart from the great currents of life and select some exceptional phase or odd combination of circumstances. He stands on the common level and appeals to the universal heart, and all that he suggests or achieves is on the plane and in the line of march of the great body of humanity.

The Jack Hazard series of stories, published in the late Our Young Folks, and continued in the first volume of St. Nicholas, under the title of "Fast Friends," is no doubt destined to hold a high place in this class of literature. The delight of the boys in them (and of their seniors, too) is well founded. They go to the right spot every time. Trowbridge knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heart of a man, too, and he has laid them both open in these books in a most successful manner. Apart from the qualities that render the series so attractive to all young readers, they have great value on account of their portraitures of American country life and character. The drawing is wonderfully accurate, and as spirited as it is true. The constable, Sellick, is an original character, and as minor figures where will we find anything better than Miss Wansey, and Mr. P. Pipkin, Esq. The picture of Mr. Dink's school, too, is capital, and where else in fiction is there a better nick-name than that the boys gave to poor little Stephen Treadwell, "Step Hen," as he himself pronounced his name in an unfortunate moment when he saw it in print for the first time in his lesson in school.

On the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and afford the critical reader the rare pleasure of the works that are just adequate, that easily fulfill themselves and accomplish all they set out to do.—Scribner's Monthly.

JACK HAZARD SERIES. 6 vols. BY J.T. TROWBRIDGE $7.25

Jack Hazard and His Fortunes. Doing His Best. The Young Surveyor. A Chance for Himself. Past Friends. Lawrence's Adventures. * * * * *

CHARLES ASBURY STEPHENS.

This author wrote his "Camping Out Series" at the very height of his mental and physical powers.

"We do not wonder at the popularity of these books; there is a freshness and variety about them, and an enthusiasm in the description of sport and adventure, which even the older folk can hardly fail to share."—Worcester Spy.

"The author of the Camping Out Series is entitled to rank as decidedly at the head of what may be called boys' literature."—Buffalo Courier.

CAMPING OUT SERIES.

By C.A. STEPHENS.

All books in this series are 12mo. with eight full page illustrations. Cloth, extra, 75 cents.

CAMPING OUT. As Recorded by "Kit."

"This book is bright, breezy, wholesome, instructive, and stands above the ordinary boys' books of the day by a whole head and shoulders."—The Christian Register, Boston.

LEFT ON LABRADOR; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE SCHOONER YACHT "CURLEW." As Recorded by "Wash."

"The perils of the voyagers, the narrow escapes, their strange expedients, and the fun and jollity when danger had passed, will make boys even unconscious of hunger."—New Bedford Mercury.

OFF TO THE GEYSERS; OR THE YOUNG YACHTERS IN ICELAND. As Recorded by "Wade."

"It is difficult to believe that Wade and Read and Kit and Wash were not live boys, sailing up Hudson Straits, and reigning temporarily over an Esquimaux tribe."—The Independent, New York.

LYNX HUNTING: From Notes by the Author of "Camping Out."

"Of first quality as a boys' book, and fit to take its place beside the best."—Richmond Enquirer.

FOX HUNTING. As Recorded by "Raed."

"The most spirited and entertaining book that has as yet appeared. It overflows with incident, and is characterized by dash and brilliancy throughout."—Boston Gazette.

ON THE AMAZON; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE "RAMBLER." As Recorded by "Wash."

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THE END