"Number one," he remarked in a soft whisper.

He moved into the next room, taking care not to stumble over a chair or stool. He easily secured Nat's valuables, and then ventured into John's apartment.

"Ten minutes more and I'm through," the burglar thought.

When he got to John's bedside, he listened for a few seconds. The Indian student could be heard breathing in his slumbers, but at the sound the man hesitated.

"A slight sleeper," was his unspoken comment. "Liable to wake up on the slightest alarm. I've got to be careful."

His trained observance, despite the evil purpose to which it was put, had at once told the intruder that John was a light and nervous slumberer. Nevertheless the thief decided to risk it. He moved his hand, inch by inch, under John's pillow. A shadow would have made no more noise. It took him nearly twice as long as it had to get the pocketbooks from Nat and Jack, but at length he was successful. Holding the three in his hand he made his way to the door whence he had entered.

"I think I'll just take a look at what sort of a haul I made, before I leave here," the man said. "No use carting a lot of useless stuff away."

There was a dim light burning in the hall, nearly opposite Jack's door. Half concealed by the portal the man paused just within the room and looked over the contents of the pocketbooks.

"Plenty of bills," he observed.

He took the money out and made it into one roll, and this he held in his hand. Rapidly he went through the other compartments of the wallets. He came across the queer card which Mr. Liggins had given Jack.

"Might as well take that along," he said to himself. "No telling what it is, but it might come in handy. I might want to pretend I belonged to the order, for it looks like a lodge emblem. I'll stow that away."

The thief laid the wallets and the money down on the floor, while he reached in a pocket to get a card case in which he carried his few valuables. He placed the odd bit of pasteboard inside this.

"Now to toss the wallets aside and skip with the cash," he murmured, and suiting the action to his words he began to move softly into the corridor.

It was a good thing that nature had endowed John with a nervous temperament, and had made him a light sleeper. For, at that instant, or maybe a little before, some peculiar action on the Indian's nerves conveyed a message to his brain.

It was not a clear and definite sort of message, in fact it was rather confused—in the same shape as a dream. John seemed to be riding a big cow pony down a steep incline, after a big buffalo on whose back sat a dark, smooth-shaven man. The same man, John thought in his dream, he had seen in the elevator that evening.

And while John was riding for dear life after the buffalo, he thought he saw the strange man turn back and go to where the three boys had left their coats on the grassy bank of Lake Rudmore. John fancied he gave up his pursuit of the buffalo to leap off and run to where the thief was stealing his own and his comrades' possessions.

The shock of leaping from the back of a swiftly running pony, and rolling head over heals as a result, awoke John, or, rather, the peculiar action of his dream did. He sat up in bed with a jump, just in time to see the thief putting the money into his pocket, and, with the three wallets, steal out into the corridor.

It must have been the continuance of the dream that made John act so quickly. He leaped out of bed, half asleep as he was, and, with a yell that sounded enough like an Indian warwhoop to startle his two companions, he made a dash for the man.

Out of the room and down the dimly lighted hall dashed the Indian student. Before him fled the thief.

"Stop!" yelled John.

"What's the matter?" cried Jack, sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Is the place on fire?"

"What's the matter? Have we missed the train?" Nat demanded to know.

"Thieves!" was all John replied.

By this time several guests of the hotel had awakened and there were anxious inquiries as to what was going on. The thief sped down the long corridor, with John, clad only in his nightdress, after him. The fellow tossed the wallets down, but the flat way in which they fell told John the intruder had taken their most valuable contents from them.

Well for the Indian that he was a fleet runner. Few there were who could have distanced him, and certainly the rascal who was out of training in athletic lines could not. A few more strides, and John grabbed the man by the coat.

"Now I've got you!" the Indian shouted.

A moment later the two went down in a heap, the man's legs having slipped from under him. But, even in the fall, John did not let go his hold. The man kept one hand in his pocket. In the flickering gaslight the Indian saw this, and rightly guessed that there the money was.

Quick as a flash John slipped his hand in and found the man was grasping something tightly.

"Let go!" the fellow growled.

"Not much!" exclaimed John. "I'm after our money!"

"I'll—I'll—cut you!" panted the thief.

"Police! Murder! Fire!" yelled a woman outside of whose door the desperate struggle was now going on.

With a great effort John loosened the hand that clenched the money. Then the Indian drew out the bills. The thief tried to grab them back. As he did so John tried to get up, having accomplished the main part of his purpose, that of saving his own and his chums' money. But, as he did so, the thief gave a roll, to get on top. This brought him to the edge of a flight of stairs, and, a second later the two were rolling down.

Bump! Bump! Bump! they went until they reached a landing. John's head struck the baseboard, and, for a moment he was stunned. There was a rush of feet in the corridor above.

"Hold him! We're coming!" was the cry.

John heard dimly. Then a blackness seemed to come over him. The lights faded away. He just remembered thrusting his hand containing the bills into his pocket, and then he fainted away.

The thief, with nimble feet, was half way down the second flight of stairs by now, for, finding the hold of his captor loosened, he made the best of his opportunity.

"Have you got him, John?" yelled Jack.

"Hold him until I come!" shouted Nat.

They had both run out into the hallway in time to see John pursuing the thief. They reached the top of the stairs just as the fellow fled.

The thief, as he ran down the stairs, cast up one look. Jack Ranger saw him, the light from a gas jet in the lower corridor shining full on the man's face.

"Professor Punjab! Hemp Smith!" exclaimed Jack, as he recognized the fakir who called himself Marinello Booghoobally.

"Did he get away?" asked Nat, coming up just then.

"Yes, and I guess he's killed John," said Jack, his heart failing him.



CHAPTER XX

A STRANGE SEANCE

By this time the corridors, above and below were filled with excited men, all scantily attired. Nat and Jack ran to where John was lying on the landing, and lifted his head.

"I'm all right," exclaimed the Indian, as he opened his eyes. "Got a bad one on the head, that's all. I can walk."

He proceeded to demonstrate this by standing up and mounting the stairs.

"Did he get our money?" asked Nat.

In answer John showed the roll he still held tightly clenched in his hand.

"Here are some pocketbooks," called a man from the upper hall.

"Then we're all right, after all," spoke Jack. "Money and pocketbooks safe. How did it happen? How did you land on him, John?"

"He was in our room," replied the Indian. "I woke up and saw him. Then I chased out, that's all."

The man who had picked up the pocketbooks handed them to Jack. The boy saw his own on top, and opened it, as he had a number of souvenirs and keepsakes in it. As he glanced in he uttered a cry of surprise.

"The card Mr. Liggins gave me to present to Mr. Tevis is gone!" he exclaimed. "Here! We must catch Professor Punjab! He has my card. Come on!"

Jack was about to rush down the stairs but was stopped by several of the men.

"You can't catch him," they said. "Besides, the police may have him by now. Go back and get dressed."

The boys decided this was good advice, particularly as they were getting chilled, for the halls were draughty. They donned some clothes, and were all ready when several bluecoats and a number of detectives in plain clothes arrived.

"Where'd they get in?" asked a big man, with a very black moustache. "Let's see what sort of a job it was."

"Right in here," said the hotel manager, leading the way to where the boys roomed. "From all accounts this was the only place he broke into."

"Didn't really lose anything, did you?" asked the black-moustached one of the boys.

"He got a valuable card," said Jack. "I would not like to lose it."

"What do you mean, a playing card; one you carried for luck?"

"No, I don't carry such things for luck," replied Jack. "It had a message on it."

He described the queer bit of pasteboard Mr, Liggins had given him.

"Oh I see; it was a sort of charm," interposed the detective with the light moustache.

"Well, we'll make a round of the pawnshops tomorrow. Maybe we'll locate it."

"I don't believe so," said Jack, half to himself. "It's not a thing that would be pawned."

The boy felt that Professor Punjab would be very likely to keep the card, thinking it might be some mysterious talisman, which could be used to advantage in his peculiar line of work. So Jack had little faith in what the detective said.

There was nothing more for the police or detectives to do. No trace of the thief was to be found, and, after a general look around, the officers departed and the hotel settled down to normal quietness. The boys went back to bed, but it was some time before they fell asleep.

Jack dozed uneasily, wondering how he was going to regain possession of the card which Professor Punjab had stolen.

"You ought to be thankful it wasn't our money, which it would have been, only for John," said Nat next morning. "Penetrating peanuts! When I think of what might have happened I shudder," and he gave an imitation of a cold chill running down his back.

"It's bad enough," said Jack. "Of course we need the money, but we could get more on a pinch. We can't get another card like that, though, and we may need it very much. At least I will."

"Let's go to the police and make them find it," suggested Nat.

"They'll never find it," put in John, who sat in a chair with his head bandaged. "We'll have to depend on ourselves."

The robbery, and John's slight wound, necessitated a change in their plans. They wired to Mr. Kent, Nat's uncle, that they would be delayed. Then they arranged to stay several days in Chicago.

The hotel proprietor insisted on sending a physician, to see the Indian. The medical man prescribed a rest, and, while John stayed in his room his chums paid several visits to the police. Jack impressed them with the value of the card, and the detectives really made efforts to find it, and to arrest the "professor," but without result.

One evening, as Jack and Nat came back from a visit to police headquarters, they found John much excited.

"I think I'm on the right track," he said.

"How?" asked Jack.

"Listen to this" John went on, holding up a newspaper, and he read:

"Attention, all who suffer or are in distress. Professor Ali Baba, one of the descendants of the Forty Thieves, who has devoted his life to undoing the wrong they did, will give palm readings, star gazings, trance answers, locate the lost, and, by a method learned from an Indian Yogi, double your money. Readings one dollar up."

"You're not going to be taken in by one of those foolish clairvoyants, are you?" asked Jack.

"Not exactly," said John. "But if I am right I think this Professor Ali Baba is Hemp Smith, or Professor Punjab under another name."

"What makes you think so?" inquired Nat. "Rip-snorting radiators! But if it should be!"

"That last clause about doubling your money, by the Indian method leads me to believe it," said John. "That is how Punjab tried to rob Mr. Post. Now I'm going to try this and see what it amounts to."

"But he'll know you as soon as he sees you," objected Nat.

"Not the way I fix up," replied the Indian.

The boys talked over the plan, and agreed it would do no harm for John to attend a seance of the professor, whose address was given in the advertisement.

[Illutsration: Give me the card!—Page 177]

John's best friend would hardly have known him as he sallied forth the next day. He wore the bandages on his head, which was cut by his fracas with the fake professor, and, in addition, he had tied one about his jaw, as though he had the toothache.

He had no difficulty in finding the place. Outside the door was a sign reading:

PROFESSOR ALI BABA. SCIENTIST.

John was admitted by a rather slick individual, in a shining, greasy suit of black.

"The professor is busy just now," he said. "He will see you soon. Meanwhile you had better give me a dollar, and state on which particular line you wish to consult him."

John handed over a two dollar bill and said:

"Tell him to make it extra strong. I have lost a valuable article."

"I am sure he can find it for you," the sleek man said. "The professor has wonderful success."

"Well he oughtn't to have much trouble finding this if he's the man I take him for," thought John. As yet he was all at sea. He wanted to get a glimpse of Professor Ali Baba.

At last his turn came. Carefully keeping his face concealed, John was shown into a room gaudily decorated with tinsel and cheap hangings.

"Who seeks the knowledge the stars alone possess?" asked a deep voice.

Jack started. He recognized at once the tones of the recent Professor Punjab. An instant later he had a glimpse of the pretended astrologer's face and knew he could not be mistaken.

"Draw near," said the fakir. "I know what thou seekest. It is that which thou hast lost, and it is more precious to thee than rubies."

"In this particular instance it is," thought John, but he did not answer at once, as he was so excited he could hardly control his voice. He did not want the swindler to recognize him.

"Tell me but the veriest outline of that which thou seekest and I will not only describe it, but tell you where you may find it, if the stars so will," Punjab went on.

"It is very difficult," said John, speaking in a sort of whisper. He wanted to gain a little time, to think best how to proceed. He had been more successful than he dared to hope. His reasoning had been exactly right. Now he wanted to make sure of success.

"No problem is too hard for those who read their answers in the stars," replied the fakir. "Describe what you have lost."

"It is square," said John, slowly, and he drew a little closer to where the pretended astrologer sat on a divan in the midst of hangings, which let but little light into the room.

"Yes, square."

"And flat."

"Yes. Now one more little detail. I begin to see a glimmering of it before me," and Professor Ali Baba pretended to go into a trance.

"It is white with black markings on it," John went on. "In fact it is something you have right here in this house."

"What's that?" fairly shouted the professor.

"It's that card you stole from Jack Ranger!" went on John, coming close to the fakir and gripping him by the wrists. "The card you took from his pocketbook the night you broke into our rooms. I want it back! Give it up, you scoundrel, or I'll call in the police."

"Let go!" yelled the professor.

"Give me the card!" shouted the Indian, struggling to hold the man, who was trying to break away.

"Help!" cried the professor.

The curtains parted and the man who had answered John's summons at the door entered.



CHAPTER XXI

FINDING ORION TEVIS

"What's the matter?" exclaimed the slick individual.

"He's trying to rob me!" shouted the fakir.

"It's the other way around!" came from John. "I'm trying to get back something he stole from a friend of mine. Give up that card, you rascal, or I'll yell for the police!"

At the same time the Indian youth, who was strong for his age, gave the wrists of Punjab such a wrench that the man cried out in pain. Whether it was this, or the knowledge that he could not afford to have a clash with the officers of the law John never decided, but the professor muttered:

"I'll give you the card. Let go!"

"Want any help?" asked the sleek and shiny individual.

"Don't you interfere!" exclaimed John, "or I'll have you arrested too. Better keep out of this. The professor knows when he's beaten."

"Let go of me," muttered the fakir.

"Where's the card?" asked John.

"It's in my pocket, but I can't get it while you hold my hands," the pretended astrologer said.

The Indian youth released his grip, but kept close watch of the professor. The latter lifted up the gaudy robe and disclosed underneath ordinary street clothing. He reached into an inner pocket and brought out the card.

"That's it!" cried John, grabbing it before the professor had a chance to play any more tricks. "That's what I want!"

"Now you've got it, you'd better get out of my house," said Punjab, trying to assume his dignity which John had sadly ruffled.

"Only too glad to," the Indian student said, and, carrying the precious card in his hand he hurried from the place, throwing aside his bandages as he did so.

"I'll get even with you boys yet," he heard Marinello Booghoobally, alias Hemp Smith, alias Professor Punjab, alias Ali Baba, call after him. But John was not worried over this and soon was back at the hotel where his companions anxiously waited him.

"Any luck?" asked Jack.

"The best," replied John, and he told them all that had happened from the time he entered Ali Baba's place until he secured the card, which, he had turned over to Jack as soon as he got in. The police were notified, but the fakir was too quick for them and escaped.

"Now we'd better go straight for Denver," said Nat. "We're behind in our schedule now, and maybe my uncle will not wait for us."

John and Jack thought this a good scheme, so, having settled their hotel bill, they were soon aboard a train again, and speeding westward. They made good time, in spite of a few delays by slight accidents, and arrived in Denver at night.

"It's too late to go to the Capital Bank," said Jack. "Wish we'd have gotten in earlier. But we'll make inquiries about Orion Tevis the first thing in the morning."

Long before the bank opened the boys had inquired their way to it from the hotel where they stopped. As soon as the doors were swung, to indicate that business might be transacted, Jack led the way into the marble-tiled corridor of the institution.

"Who do you want to see?" asked a uniformed porter.

"The president," said Jack boldly, thinking it best to begin at the top, and work down if necessary.

"Want to deposit a million dollars I s'pose," the porter said with a sort of sneer. Evidently his breakfast had not agreed with him.

"I came here to inquire for the address of Mr. Orion Tevis," replied Jack sharply, and in a loud tone, for he did not like to be made fun of. "If the president is not the proper person to ask will you kindly tell me who is?"

"What's that?" asked a gray-haired man, peering out from a private office.

"I am seeking the address of Mr. Orion Tevis," repeated Jack.

"Step right in here," the elderly man said. "Johnson, you may go down into the basement and finish your work," he added to the porter who hurried away, probably feeling as though he had grown several inches shorter.

"Now what is this about Mr. Tevis?" asked the man. "I am Mr. Snell, cashier of the bank."

"I want to find Mr. Tevis, in order to ask him if he knows the whereabouts of a certain person in whom I am interested," said Jack.

"Are you a private detective?" asked Mr. Snell, with a smile.

"No sir, I'm Jack Ranger, from Denton, and these are friends of mine," and Jack mentioned their names.

"Well, suppose I say we haven't Mr. Tevis's address," spoke Mr. Snell.

"I was told it could be obtained here," Jack insisted.

"If it could be, under certain conditions, are you able to fulfill those conditions?" asked the cashier.

"If you mean this, yes," replied Jack, showing his queer ring.

"Where did you get that?" asked Mr, Snell

"It's a long story," Jack said. "The last time I got it was when I recovered it from a burglar. But we have another. Show him yours, John."

The Indian student exhibited the odd gold emblem with the pine tree tracing on the moss agate. Mr. Snell looked at both circlets critically without saying anything. He glanced at the lettering inside.

"I don't believe I am in a position to give you Mr. Tevis's address," he said slowly.

"What?" cried Jack. "After all our journey."

"Show him the card," said John, in a whisper.

Jack pulled from his pocket the curious bit of cardboard he had secured from Mr. Liggins. At the sight of it the cashier uttered an exclamation. He got up and closed the door leading to the bank corridor.

"That settles it!" he exclaimed. "Your credentials are all right. Wait a minute."

He pressed a button on his desk. A short, stockily built man entered the room.

"Perkins, you may feed the red cow," the cashier said gravely.

"Yes sir," replied Perkins, as calmly as though he had been told to hand over the city directory.

"And whisper to her that the goats have come," the cashier went on, at which Perkins turned and left the room.

"Now boys I am ready for you," said Mr. Snell, and Jack related as much of the matter as he thought might have a bearing on his search.

"I can give you Mr. Tevis's address," the cashier went on. "You must excuse my caution, but, as you doubtless know, there have been strange doings in connection with that land deal. So you are Jack Ranger?"

"That's me. But now where can I find Orion Tevis and learn where my father is?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have trouble," Mr. Snell went on. "All we know is that Mr. Tevis lives somewhere on a wild tract of land among the mountains about one hundred miles from Fillmore."

"Fillmore, that's where we have to go to get to Denville," said Nat

"So it is," Jack murmured.

"You see Mr. Tevis is a rather peculiar individual and surrounds himself with many safeguards," Mr. Snell went on. "We were only to give his address to those who brought the rings and the card. I was at first afraid you were impostors, as there have been several such. We are also required to send Mr. Tevis word as soon as any one comes here, bearing the proper emblems, and seeking him. You heard what I said to that man a while ago. It was a code message to be transmitted to Mr. Tevis."

"But if you know where to send him a message, why can't you tell us how to reach him?" asked Jack.

"I can tell you as much as we ourselves know. We send the messages to a certain man living in Fillmore. He, in turn, rides off into the mountains and, from what I have heard, leaves the letter in the cleft of an old tree, of which he alone knows the location. Then he comes away. In time Mr. Tevis, or some of his men, come and get the letter. If he wishes to send an answer he leaves it in the tree. If not that ends the matter. If he wishes to remain hidden he does so. He seldom comes to town, and has only been at this bank once in a number of years. Now, don't you think you have a pretty hard task ahead of you?"

"Will you tell me how to find this man in Fillmore, who knows how to take that letter?" asked Jack.

"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Snell. "That's the way to talk. I sized you up for a plucky lad as soon as I saw you. Now if you will take pencil and paper, I'll give you directions for reaching Enos Hardy, who may succeed in getting a message to Mr. Tevis for you."

Jack jotted down what Mr. Snell told him, and, at his suggestion, the other two boys made copies, in case of accident. Then, having cashed some letters of credit which they brought with them, the boys went back to their hotel.

"What are you going to do, Jack?" asked Nat.

"I'm going to find Orion Tevis," was the reply. "I think I had better do it before I go on to your uncle's ranch, Nat. What do you say?"

"Slippery snapping turtles!" exclaimed Nat. "If I was you I'd do the same thing. You ought to make that hundred miles and back in a week, and we can go to uncle's ranch then. We'll go with you; eh, John?"

"Sure," replied the Indian.

"Let's hurry on to Fillmore," Nat went on. "If my uncle is there waiting for us, we can tell him all about it. If not we can send him a letter, telling him where we are going, and letting him know about what time we'll be back. It's only twenty miles from Fillmore to Denville, near where his ranch is."

This plan was voted a good one, and as soon as the boys could catch a train out of Denver they were speeding toward what was to be the last railroad station of their long western trip.

They were two days reaching it, owing to the poor connections, because they were now traveling on branch line railroads, but they got into the little mining town one evening at dusk. So explicit were the directions Mr. Snell had given them that they had no difficulty in reaching the Eagle Hotel, where the cashier had advised them to put up. They registered, and, in accordance with their directions, left a note with the hotel clerk for Enos Hardy.

"He'll be in some time to-night," the clerk said. "He comes here every evening."

It was about nine o'clock that night when a message came to the boys' room that Mr. Hardy would see them in the sitting room of the hotel. Jack went down alone, and found waiting for him a grizzly, heavily- bearded man, rather stoop-shouldered. He glanced from under his shaggy eyebrows at Jack.

"You left a message for Enos Hardy?" the man asked.

"I did, in reference to Orion Tevis," admitted Jack.

"Have you the emblems?"

Jack showed the rings and card.

"Um!" grunted the man. "What do you want?"

"I want to see Orion Tevis, and ask him about my father."

"It will take me three days to bring you an answer," Mr. Hardy went on. "Will you wait here until then?"

Jack bowed his assent.

"You must trust the rings and card to me," Mr. Hardy went on. "Oh, they will be safe," he added, as he saw Jack give a start of surprise. "You can ask any one in Fillmore about me."

Without a word Jack handed over the two rings and the bit of pasteboard.

"This is Tuesday," the strange messenger went on. "I will be back here with an answer Friday night."

"Then I can start for Mr. Tevis's place the next day," spoke Jack.

"If the answer is favorable," Mr. Hardy said, as he left the room.



CHAPTER XXII

JACK HEARS OF HIS FATHER

For a few moments Jack stood looking at the door that had closed on Mr. Hardy. The man seemed a link between the boy and his long-lost father, and Jack felt as if he would not like to allow Mr. Tevis's confidant to be out of his sight. But he reflected if he was to see the man who held his father's secret he must follow out the line laid down.

He went to where he had left Nat and John, and told them what had happened. Jack announced anticipation of a favorable reply from Mr. Tevis, who, he said, would, no doubt, keep his promise made years ago to those to whom he had presented the rings.

"Then we'll get ready to go with you," announced Nat. "Hopping halibut! I forgot to write to my uncle. I heard from the hotel clerk he had waited here for us two days, and then went back, leaving word we could come on to the ranch, or wait for him. He'll be back inside of a week."

"That fits into our plans," Jack said. "Write and tell him we arrived and will be ready to go with him a week from to-day, I think I can learn what I want in that time."

Accordingly Nat got a letter ready, and intrusted it to the hotel clerk, who promised to send it to Double B ranch at the first opportunity. Mr. Kent's ranch was known by the device of two capital B's, one placed backwards in front of the other, and this brand appeared on all his cattle. His uncle's place, Nat learned, was on a big plateau in the midst of a mountain range. Men from it frequently rode into Fillmore, and it was by one of them the hotel clerk proposed sending the boy's letter to Mr. Kent.

This done, the three chums sat in their rooms discussing the strange things that had come to pass since they had left Washington Hall.

"Seems as if it was several months, instead of a couple of weeks," said John. "I'll be glad when we get out where it's good and wild."

The boys found much to occupy their time in the hustling city of Denver. They went about viewing the sights, but all the while Jack was impatiently awaiting the return of Mr. Hardy.

"I wonder if the days are any longer here than back east," he remarked.

"It's you," replied Nat. "Stop thinking about it, and Friday night will come sooner."

"Can't help it," Jack went on, with a deep sigh.

Friday night came at last, though it was nearly ten o'clock before Jack, who was anxiously waiting in his room, received a message that some one wanted to see him. He went down and was met by Mr. Hardy. The man showed the dust and grime of travel.

"Well?" asked Jack.

"When do you want to start?" asked Mr. Hardy.

"To-morrow morning," was Jack's quick reply, and a load was lifted from his mind.

"Then I'll have a horse for you here at nine o'clock," Mr. Tevis's friend went on, as he handed back the rings and the card.

"Can't John and Nat go along?" inquired Jack, for he had mentioned his friends to Mr. Hardy.

"I suppose so," was the answer. "It will take longer if so many of us go, but I have no orders to keep your friends back if they want to accompany us. It's a wild trip, and has to be made on horseback."

"They'll want to go. None of us is a good rider, but we'll do our best"

"Very well, I'll have three horses."

"Do you think Mr. Tevis will have some news of my father?" asked Jack, a note of anxiety coming into his voice.

"I shouldn't be surprised," was the cautious answer. "Mr. Tevis can generally be depended on to produce the goods. Now I'll leave you, as I have lots of work to do before morning. I'm glad I succeeded in arranging it for you,"

"So am I," exclaimed Jack, as he held out his hand and met that of Mr. Hardy's in hearty clasp.

"Can you two stand a hundred mile ride on horseback?" asked Jack of his two chums, when he was back in his room.

"Two if necessary," replied John.

"And two it will have to be," Jack went on. "I forgot it's a hundred each way. Well, we're in for it," and he explained what Mr. Hardy had told him.

The horses which Mr. Tevis's messenger brought around the next morning proved to be steady-going animals. Their backs were broad and they carried easy-riding saddles. Under the direction of the guide the boys packed up some blankets and enough "grub," to last several days, since they could not expect to make as good time as had Mr. Hardy. Leaving their trunks and grips at the hotel the boys, with their new-found friend in the lead, started for Mr. Tevis's mountain home.

"He's a strange man," said Mr, Hardy, as he rode along by Jack's side a little later. "He had so much trouble with a band of bad men once that he made up his mind he would have no more. He knows the gang is still trying to get the best of him, and that's why he takes so many precautions. It is the same ugly crowd that made your father an exile, I understand."

"But his exile is almost up," said Jack earnestly. "The eleven years will pass this summer, and he can come back to us."

"If you can only find him to get word to him."

"Do you think I can't find him?"

"Well, the mountains are a wild place. It's hard enough to keep track of men who have no motive for hiding, let alone those who believe every effort to locate them is made with an idea of doing them some harm."

"If I can only get word to him I know my father will wander no longer. I need him and he needs me."

Half a day's riding brought them to a wild part of the country. The trail was a narrow one. Now it led along a high range of foothills, skirting some deep ravine. Again it was down in a valley, along the course of some mountain stream that was now almost dry.

The bracing atmosphere, though it was so rarefied that the boys, at first, found a little difficulty in breathing, made objects seem strangely near. Several times Jack and his companions saw a distant landmark, and wondered why they were so long in reaching it. Mr. Hardy laughed at their astonishment as he explained the reason for the seeming nearness.

They had dinner on the side of a mountain which they had begun to ascend shortly before noon. Mr. Hardy proved himself an old campaigner. He had a fire made, and bacon frying before the boys had the stiffness from their legs, caused by their ride. Then, with bread and coffee, they made a better meal than they had partaken of in many a hotel.

That night they slept in a lonely mountain cabin, the owner of which Mr. Hardy knew. They pressed on the next morning, their pace being slow because Nat found he could not ride as well as he had hoped.

"Galloping gooseberries!" he exclaimed. "I feel as if all my bones were loose. You didn't see any of 'em scattered back along the trail, did you, Jack?"

"You'll get over it," said Mr. Hardy. "Got to learn to ride if you're going on a ranch. No one walks there."

They had to sleep in the open the next night, but Mr. Hardy built a big fire, and, well wrapped in their blankets, the boys were not uncomfortable, even though it was cold on the mountain from the time the sun went down.

It was cold, too, the next morning, as they crawled from their warm coverings, but when their guide had thrown a lot of wood on the glowing embers, causing them to spring into a fine blaze, the boys got up and helped prepare breakfast.

"We're almost there," said Mr. Hardy, as they mounted their horses to resume their trip.

They rode until shortly before noon, when Mr. Hardy suddenly pulled his horse up and said:

"Here's as far as we can go, boys, until we get word from Mr. Tevis. There's the tree where I leave the messages." He pointed to a big oak that had been struck by lightning, and split partly down the immense trunk. One blackened branch stuck up. It had a cleft in it, in which a letter could be placed and seen from afar.

"Now I'll just leave a note there, and we'll have to be guided by what happens," Mr. Hardy went on.

He wrote something on a piece of paper, and asked Jack for the rings and the card symbol. These, with the message he had written, he placed in an envelope. The letter was enclosed in a bit of oiled silk, and the whole deposited in the cleft of the limb.

"It might rain before it is taken away," he explained. "You can never tell when Mr. Tevis or his messengers come. He can see that letter from his house, by using a telescope, but he may not send for it. It all depends."

"How will you know if he does?" asked Jack.

"I will come back here to-morrow at noon," replied the guide. "If there is an answer, there will be a little white flag where the letter was, Then I will know what to do."

There was nothing to do but wait. Mr. Hardy explained that it was necessary that they move back down the mountain, a mile or more away from the signal tree. To Jack and his chums this seemed a lot of needless precaution, but they were in no position to do anything different.

Jack passed the night in uneasy slumber, for he could not help thinking of what the morrow might bring and what effect it might have on his search for his father. But all things have an end, and morning finally came. After breakfast Mr. Hardy looked well to the saddle girths, as he said, if they were to go further on their journey, they would have to proceed over a rougher road than any they had yet traversed.

They started for the blighted oak so as to reach there about noon. How anxiously did Jack peer ahead for a sight of the lightning- blasted tree, in order to catch the first glimpse of the white flag he hoped to see! He was so impatient that Mr. Hardy had to caution him not to ride too fast. But in spite of this the boy kept pressing his horse forward. As the little cavalcade turned around a bend in the trail Jack cried out:

"I see it! There's the white flag! Now we can go on and hear the news of my father!"

"Don't be too sure," muttered Mr. Hardy. "It may be a message saying there is no news," but he did not tell Jack this.

The sun was just crossing the zenith when Mr. Hardy took from the cleft of the branch a small packet wrapped in oiled silk, similar to the one he had left. Quickly tearing off the wrapping the guide disclosed a piece of white paper. On It was but one word:

"Come."

"Hurrah!" yelled Jack, throwing his hat into the air, and nearly losing his balance recovering it.

"Walloping washtubs!" yelled Nat.

"Let's hurry on," spoke John Smith, more quietly. But he, too, felt the excitement of the moment, only he was used to repressing his feelings.

"Prepare for a hard ride," said Mr. Hardy. "We must make Mr. Tevis's place by night, as it is dangerous to camp in the open around here. Too many wild beasts."

From the blasted oak the trail led in winding paths up the mountain. It was indeed a hard one. Great boulders blocked the path, and there were places where rains had washed out big gullies. But the horses seemed used to such traveling, for they scrambled along like goats on a rocky cliff.

It was just getting dusk when, as they topped a considerable rise, Mr. Hardy pointed ahead to where a light glimmered on the side of the mountain, and said:

"There is Mr. Tevis's house."

Jack's heart gave a mighty thump. At last he was at one of the important stages of his long trip. As the riders advanced there came, from out of the fast gathering darkness a command:

"Halt! Who comes?"

"Friends!" exclaimed Mr. Hardy.

"What word have you?"

"Pine tree and moss agate," was the answer.

"You may enter," the unseen speaker added.

There was the sound of a heavy gate swinging open, and following their guide the boys urged their horses ahead. They found themselves on a well-made road, which led to a fairly large house.

"Dismount," said Mr. Hardy, as he brought his steed to a halt in front of a large piazza that surrounded the residence. "We are here at last."

As he spoke the door opened, sending out a stream of brilliant light. In the center of the radiance stood a tall man, looking out.

"Good evening, Mr. Tevis," spoke Mr. Hardy.

"Ah, Enos, so you have arrived. And did you bring the boys with you?"

"All three, sir."

"Very good. Come in. Supper is ready."

Jack sprang from his horse and, with a bound was on the porch beside the man he had come so far to see.

"Mr. Tevis!" he exclaimed, "Have you any news of my father? Is he alive? Can you tell me where to find him?"

"Yes, to all three questions, Jack Ranger," said Mr. Tevis, heartily, and Jack felt his heart thumping against his ribs as though it would leap out.



CHAPTER XXIII

ON THE RANCH

Some men came up and led the horses of the riders to a stable in the rear. Mr. Tevis showed the way into his house. It was a big log cabin, but was furnished with many comforts. On the floors were great bear rugs, while skulls and horns of other animals decorated the walls. The light came from two big kerosene hanging lamps.

"Welcome to Cabin Lodge," said Mr. Tevis.

"I hope you are all hungry, as we have a fine supper waiting for you."

"That's what I want," said Mr. Hardy. "We haven't stopped much for grub since we started."

"I'd like to hear more about my father, before I eat," said Jack.

"I realize your impatience," Mr. Tevis replied, with a smile, "and I'll endeavor to relieve your mind. I will tell you what I know while the others are getting ready for the meal."

Then Mr. Tevis told briefly the history of Robert Ranger, or Roberts, as he best knew him, with the main facts of which Jack was familiar. He told of his acquaintance with him and John Smith's father, and how the bad men had tried unsuccessfully to get control of the timber claim. Jack found him a peculiar man indeed, but seemingly good hearted.

"But what you want to know," Mr. Tevis went on, "is how to find your father now."

Jack nodded eagerly.

"Of course you know I have not seen him in a long time, as he did not think it wise to come here, fearing the gang would capture him and get him into court. But I have heard from him, not later than three months ago."

"Where is he?" asked Jack, hardly able to sit still.

"While I can't say exactly," Mr. Tevis went on, "I know he is somewhere in a small range of mountains called Golden Glow. He has a small cabin there, and manages to make a living by doing some mining. He has one companion, whom he can trust, and who goes back to civilization once in a while to get food and supplies. Your father will not trust himself in sight of a town. In fact it is almost as hard to communicate with him as it is with me."

"Where are the Golden Glow mountains?" asked Jack.

"The nearest town is Denville," was the answer.

"Denville!" exclaimed Jack.

"Yes, what is there strange in that?"

"Why, we are going to Denville," Jack replied, "That's where Nat's uncle's ranch is."

"Yes, but the beginning of the Golden Glow mountain range is about a hundred miles from there," Mr. Tevis added.

"What's a hundred miles when I'm going to find my father and take him back home with me?" asked Jack. "I can travel that."

"You've got pluck," spoke Mr. Tevis. "I wish you luck, my boy."

Then he told all the particulars he knew of Mr. Roberts' whereabouts, how the exile had often written to him of his lonely life, and how much he would like to see his son and his sisters again.

"We have both been hounded by that gang of land sharps," concluded Mr. Tevis, with a deep sigh. "I have found means of evading them by living in this wild place, and adopting all sorts of precautions in admitting visitors. That is why I was so careful on your account. I could not tell who might be trying to play a trick on me. But I devised that card for a few of my friends. Lucky you met Lem Liggins, or I doubt if even the sight of the two rings would have convinced me. But I felt reasonably certain no one could have both the card and the rings. Even at that you saw how cautious I am, by the details Mr. Hardy had to go through."

"How would you advise me to reach my father, and let him know it is safe to return?" asked Jack.

Mr. Tevis paused a moment. He remained in deep thought for some time. Then he spoke.

"In one of his letters," he said, "your father told me if I ever wanted to see him, to adopt this plan. There is in the Golden Glow range one peak, higher than all the others. From a certain place in it, a place marked by a big stone on which is carved a cross, a tall pine tree, bare of branches, can be seen. By keeping down the side of the slope, and in direct line with the pine you will come to a little valley. At the lower end of this is your father's cabin. Only be careful how you approach it. In this country men sometimes shoot first and inquire afterward."

"How will I know the high peak when I see it?" asked Jack.

"You can hardly mistake it," Mr. Tevis remarked. "But you can be sure of it, because, just at sunset, you will see it envelop in a golden glow. That is what gives the name to the mountain range. It seems there is a mass of quartz on top of the peak, and the sun, reflecting from it just before it sets, shines as if from burnished gold. I think you will have no trouble in finding the peak, and, though it may be hard, I hope you will find your father. Here, let me give you this. It may help you."

He took from his watch chain, a curious little charm. It was in the shape of a golden lizard, with ruby eyes.

"Your father gave that to me many years ago," said the timber owner. "If worst comes to worst, and you can't get to him, but can send him a message, send that. He will know it comes from me, even if he doubts the rings. It has a secret mark. Now let's go to supper."

There were many thoughts in Jack's mind and many feelings in his heart as he ate at the table at which they all gathered. He did not join in the talk and laughter that went around. Mr. Hardy told Mr. Tevis of the trip he and the three boys had made, and Nat and John added their share to the general conversation.

"What makes you so quiet?" asked Nat of his chum.

"I'm thinking of what's ahead of me," Jack replied.

Mr. Tevis wanted his guests to remain several days with him, but the boys were anxious to get on to the ranch, and decided they would start back for Fillmore the next day. That night Mr. Tevis returned to John and Jack their rings, but he kept the peculiar card.

"I will send it back to Lem," he said. "He might want to come and see me some time. I still have to be on my guard. As for you boys, keep a constant watch. There is no telling when those men may resume their tricks. They know the time set by law is almost up, and they are likely to redouble their efforts. Be on your guard, Jack."

"I will," Jack answered, and then he and his chums bade their host good-bye. Mounting their horses, and led by Mr. Hardy, they again took up the trail, and the heavy log gate was shut after them, as they left the stockade inside of which Cabin Lodge was built.

When the boys and their guide went back to the hotel in Fillmore, the return trip having been made in better time than the outgoing, there was a letter from Mr. Kent to Nat. The boy's uncle said he was so busy he had no time to come for them, but, he added, he would send one of his men with three horses which the boys could ride out to the ranch. Their trunks and baggage had been called for by one of the Double B ranchmen while they were on their way to Mr. Tevis's, so the boys had nothing to worry about but themselves.

They had arrived at the hotel about noon, and having eaten dinner, sat down to await the arrival of the man who was to escort them. He had been in town for two days, the hotel clerk said, but, at that moment, had gone to see some friends.

"I'll send him up to your room when he comes in," said the clerk, and the boys went upstairs to pack a few little articles that had not gone on with their trunks and valises.

It was while they were in the midst of that that a knock sounded on their door.

"Come in," cried Jack, all three being then in his apartment.

A tall, slightly built man, with a little light moustache, blue eyes, dressed in regulation cowboy costume, entered, holding his broad- brimmed hat in his hand.

"I'm lookin' for Nat Anderson an' his chums, Jack Ranger an' John Smith," he announced.

"Right in here," called out Nat.

"I'm Rattlesnake Jim," announced the stranger, "and I come from Double B ranch to show you the way."

The boys were only too anxious to get started. They paid their hotel bill, and when they got outside found there were three fine ponies waiting for them.

"Mount!" called Rattlesnake Jim.

The lads were very glad of the practice they had in riding with Mr. Hardy, for they felt their new guide was watching them closely. If he had any fault to find he did not mention it.

It was a pleasant afternoon, and, once they were out in the open country, after ascending a slight rise, the boys let their animals out. They found them plenty speedy enough.

"Not so bad for tenderfeet," muttered Rattlesnake Jim, under his breath.

The road led along a long level stretch, the big plateau extending for miles ahead of them.

"About what time will we get to my uncle's place?" asked Nat

"Grub time, I reckon," said Rattlesnake Jim, who, as the boys afterward learned, had gained his name from the hatred he bore to the reptiles.

"Very busy now?" went on Nat.

"Passably so. Been rustlin' after horse thieves for th' last few nights," replied Jim coolly.

Before the boys could get over this rather startling remark, Jack's horse suddenly shied. The lad was nearly thrown off, and, as he recovered his balance, and looked to see what had scared the animal, he saw, in the shadow of a big stone at the side of the road, an old man crawling along.

"Hold on thar, stranger!" called Rattlesnake Jim, drawing his revolver and covering the man.



CHAPTER XXIV

THE OLD MAN

"Don't shoot!" the old man begged, trying to stand up, but toppling in a heap. "Don't shoot! I haven't done anything!"

"We'll see about that," went on Jim, as he dismounted. "What are you sneaking around like that for, hiding under a rock? If it had been a little darker we wouldn't have seen you. Who are you?"

"I don't know's it any of your affair," replied the stranger sullenly, as he sat down on the ground.

"Shot, eh," remarked Jim, as he noticed that the man's left foot was covered with blood. "Now you'd better tell me all about it, before I make trouble for you."

"It was an accident," replied the man. "I was cleaning my gun. I forgot I had a shell in it, and it went off and hit my foot. It was back there, and I thought I'd crawl along until I got to some place I could get help."

"Likely story," said Jim with a sneer. "That don't go with me, stranger. You stay here and I'll send some of the men to have a look at you."

"Are you going to leave him here?" asked Jack, who had dismounted, and was walking toward the old man.

"Sure. What else can I do?"

"Let me look at his foot," went on Jack, "I know a little bit about first aid to the injured. Maybe I can bandage it up,"

"Better let him alone," advised Jim, mounting his horse again.

But Jack was bending over the man, and had already taken off his shoe, which was filled with blood. As the boy was drawing off the sock, the man caught sight of Jack's hand.

"That ring! That ring! Where did you get it?" he asked excitedly, as he caught sight of the moss agate emblem on Jack's finger. "Tell me, who are you?"

Jack looked at the man in astonishment. His words and manner indicated that some unusual emotion stirred him. For a moment he gazed at the ring and then a film seemed to come over his eyes. His head sank forward, and a second later he toppled over.

"He's dead!" exclaimed Nat.

"Only fainted, I guess," replied Rattlesnake Jim coolly. "Lost considerable blood I reckon. He's left quite a trail, anyhow," and he pointed to where a crimson streak in the grass showed that the wounded man had crawled along.

"What shall we do?" asked John. "We can't leave him here."

"Don't see what else there is to do," said Jim, as he turned his horse back into the path. "We can't carry him. Besides, he is probably only one of a horse-stealing gang, and has been shot in some foray. Better leave him alone."

"I'm not going to," declared Jack. "First I'm going to fix up his foot, and then we'll go for help."

"I guess my uncle will see that he is taken care of," spoke Nat, with all a boy's confidence in things he knows nothing about.

"Well, you can have your own way, of course," Jim said. "I'm only sent to show you the way, but if it was me I sure would leave him alone."

By this time Jack had torn several handkerchiefs into strips to make bandages. Jim, who began to take interest in what the boy was doing, even if he did not believe in it, showed him where there was a pool of water. With this Jack bathed the old man's foot. It had a bad bullet wound in it, but the bleeding had stopped. Carefully bandaging the wound, Jack made a pillow out of a blanket he found rolled behind the saddle and with another covered the senseless form.

"Now let's hurry on to the ranch, Nat," he said, "and ask your uncle to send out a wagon. If none of the men want to come we'll drive."

"Of course we will," spoke Nat, with rather an unfriendly look at Jim,

"Oh, I'm not so mean as that," the cowboy hastened to say. "You'll find out here we have to be mighty particular who we make friends with, son. But if you boys are so dead set on taking care of this— er—well, this gentleman, why I'll volunteer to drive a wagon back."

"Thanks," said Jack, but from then on there was a better understanding between the cowboy and the three chums.

The boys mounted their horses, and, as Rattlesnake Jim put his to a gallop, they urged their steeds to greater speed. As Nat swung up along side of Jack he asked:

"What makes you so anxious about that old man?"

"Because I think he may know something of my father. Did you notice how excited he was about the ring? Well, that gave me a clue. He may be able to lead me to where my father is hiding. I must have a talk with him."

There was considerable activity about the range when the boys and their guide arrived. A score of the cowboys were coming in from distant runs anxious for supper. Horses were being tethered for the night. Half a dozen dogs were barking as though their lives depended on it. Here and there men were running about, some carrying saddies, others laden down with blankets, and some hopping around and firing off their revolvers in sheer good feeling.

From a little cabin a Chinese in the regulation blouse, with his queue tightly coiled about his head, came to the door.

"Wood-e!-Wood-e?" he called. "Me no glet glub me no got wood-e!"

"Get Chinky the cook some wood!" yelled a man who seemed to be a sort of overseer. One or two of the cowboys got up from the ground where they had thrown themselves and brought armsful to the cook's shanty.

"Here we are," called Rattlesnake Jim, as he and the boys rode into the midst of this excitement.

"Hello, Nat!" called a hearty voice. "Land alive, but I'm glad to see you!"

The next instant a red-faced, short, stout, bald-headed man was nearly pulling Nat from his horse.

"Hello, Uncle Morris!" called Nat. "How are you?"

"Fine as silk. How about you?"

"Never better," replied Nat "Here fellows, this is Uncle Morris. That's Jack and that's John," he added, with a wave of his hand.

"Howdy!" exclaimed Mr. Kent heartily, shaking hands with his nephew's companions. "I'd been able to pick you out in the dark from the description Nat gave. Come on in, grub's almost ready."

"Will you speak to him about the old man?" asked Jack of Nat, in a low voice.

"Oh, yes, sure," and Nat told his uncle in a few words of the wounded one, and Jack's desire to have him brought in.

"I'll send some of the men in the wagon," Mr. Kent said.

"Let me go also," Jack begged, and, after some talk it was arranged he was to go with Jim and another cowboy.

"But you must have supper first," said Mr. Kent. "I insist on that. Besides it's going to be a warm night, and, according to your tale, you left the stranger pretty comfortable. What do you think about him, Jim?"

"Well, there's no telling," the boy's guide said. "He don't look as though he could do much damage. He's a stranger around here. Don't talk like any of the usual crowd. I was a bit leery of him at first, but the lads seemed to cotton to him right off, so I let 'em have their way."

"Well, we'll see what he amounts to," Mr. Kent commented. "No harm in doing him a good turn I reckon."

It was quite dark when Jack, accompanying Jim and Deacon Pratt, another cowboy, started on the wagon trip. But after a bit the moon arose, and the journey was not so unpleasant. Jack was much interested in listening to the talk of the two men. They discussed everything from the latest make of cartridges and revolvers to the best way to rope a steer and brand a maverick.

"Let's see, we ought to be pretty near the place now," Jim remarked, after more than an hour's drive. "I think I see the big stone. Hark! What's that?"

A low moan was heard.

"That's him, I reckon," put in Deacon, who was driving. He swung the horse to one side, and Jim leaped down.

"He's, here!" Jim called. "Pretty bad shape, I'm afraid. Come here, Deacon, and lend me a hand."

The two men lifted the aged man into the wagon, and placed him upon a pile of blankets, while Jack held the team.

"Do you think he's dead?" asked our hero.

"Not yet, but he don't look as if he could last long," Deacon replied. "I'll give him a bit of liquor. It may revive him," and he forced a few drops of the stimulant between the cold lips.

"Don't shoot!" the old man begged in a feeble tone. "I don't mean any harm."

"It's all right," said Rattlesnake Jim, more tenderly than he had yet spoken.

The trip back was made in quick time, and the old man was put in a bed Mr. Kent had ordered gotten ready for him. They were rude but effective doctors, those ranchmen, and, in a little while the stranger had revived considerably. He was suffering mostly from exposure, hunger and loss-of blood from his wound.

The three boys were in the sitting room of the ranch house, taking turns telling Mr. Kent of their experiences on their trip west. Before they knew it the clock had struck twelve.

"Now you must get off to bed," said Nat's uncle. "We'll have more time for swapping yarns to-morrow."

At that moment a man poked his had in at the door.

"What is it?" asked Mr. Kent

"That party we brought in a while ago, him as is shot in the foot, seems to want something."

"What is it?"

"He says as how he's got to speak to that lad with the strange ring, calls him Roberts."

"He means me!" exclaimed Jack.



CHAPTER XXV

THE COWBOY'S TRICK

"I thought you said your name was Ranger," said Morris Kent.

"It always has been," Jack replied. "But my father has been going by the name of Roberts. He was known as that to his associates, because of the necessity for keeping him in exile. So I'll have to consider myself as the son of Mr. Roberts and Mr. Ranger, until we get this cleared up. I am trying to find my father, and I think this old man can aid me. He seems to have a secret."

"Then you had better go and see what he has to say," Mr. Kent advised. Jack found the aged man propped up in bed. Though he was still pale, he was evidently a little better.

"Let me see that ring again," he said, and Jack, who had taken to wearing the emblem on his finger, held out his hand.

"Yes, yes; it is the same," he murmured. "I would know it among ten thousand, though I have never seen it before."

"Who are you, and what do you know about this ring?" asked Jack. He had been left all alone with the old man, the cowboy who had summoned him, and Mr. Kent, having left the room.

"I am Peter Lantry," the wounded man replied. "Until a month ago I lived with a man named Roberts, though his real name was Robert Ranger. He took his first name for his last one because of some scheming men. But that you know as well as I do. He told me all about his son, and how, if he or I ever saw him he could be identified by a peculiar ring, which he described. As soon as I saw the ring I knew you must be the boy, and I have a message for you."

"What is it? Tell me quickly," said Jack.

"If I was only sure," murmured the old man. "Roberts warned me to be careful about what I said. If I was only sure. I thought I was,—but now I remember—he told me to be careful."

"Careful about what?" asked Jack.

"How do I know you are Robert Ranger's son?" asked the sufferer. "I remember now, he said a stranger might get the ring. I wish I had kept still," and he seemed quite worried. A flush came into his pale cheeks, and it seemed as if he was in a fever.

"If you doubt me, I can easily prove that I am Robert Ranger's son," spoke Jack. "You probably know the story of Orion Tevis, and the Indian, Smith. His son is here now, and he has a ring just like this. Wait, I will call him."

"No! No! Don't!" exclaimed Mr. Lantry. "I must tell you alone. Come closer. I am weak, and I must whisper to you what I have to say. No one else must hear."

Jack sat down in a chair beside the bed, and the old man, looking carefully around the room, as though he feared some one would hear his secret, began:

"Your father and I have lived for the past three years in a little hut, hidden in the Golden Glow mountains. He never ventured far away, and what few trips to town were necessary I made. Some time ago your father became sick. I am a rough sort of doctor, and I knew he needed some remedies for the heart. I managed to get them, and Roberts (I always call him by that name) grew better. But about a month ago the medicine got low, and I knew I must get more. You see, I only made two trips to civilization a year, one in the spring and one in the fall. In winter it is impossible to get out of the gorge where we live.

"I knew then I must start on my summer trip earlier than usual, for the medicine in the shack would only last about two months. So I made ready to go."

"But tell me how to get to where my father is," interrupted Jack. "That is important. I must hurry to him."

"Wait a minute," spoke the old man. His brain was feeble and Jack realized if he hurried or confused the sufferer he might get no information at all.

"I started away from the shack, as I said," Mr. Lantry resumed. "I rode my horse when I was able and led him when it was too rough. I had not traveled many miles before I realized that I was being followed. I caught several glimpses of two men, who kept close on my trail, and, try as I did, I could not shake them off."

"Were they members of the timber gang?" asked Jack eagerly.

"They were," replied Mr. Lantry. "I will be brief now, as I am getting weak. I hurried on, but the men kept after me. They closed in on me in a lonely place about fifteen miles from here, I judge."

"What did they want?" asked Jack.

"They demanded that I lead them to where your father was. They knew they could never find the place without a guide, for, doubtless, they had often attempted it. We had the shack well hidden, your father and I. Of course I refused to show them the way. And they threatened to torture me, but I only laughed. Then in sudden anger one of the men fired at me. The bullet went wild as his companion knocked his arm down in time, but it struck me in the foot. Then the men rode away.

"I managed to keep on my horse until I fell off from weakness. Then my animal wandered away and I had to crawl. I got as far as the rock and was waiting there, hoping some one would come along, when you found me."

"How long is it since you left my father?" asked Jack.

"It is a little over three weeks."

"And perhaps he is in want and suffering now," the boy cried. "I must hurry to him. Tell me which way to go," and Jack sprang up, as though to start at once in the dead of night.

"You must ride until—until you—until you see—you see-"

The old man's voice had been growing weaker and weaker. The last words came from him in a hoarse whisper, and, with a feeble moan he fell back on the pillow, with closed eyes.

"He's dead! Help! Help!" exclaimed Jack.

Mr. Kent and several cowboys came running into the room. Mr. Kent placed his hand over the sufferer's heart.

"He is alive, but that's all," he said. "Jim, ride for the doctor."

"He never told me how to find my father," said Jack in a low voice. "Oh, if he would only live until he can tell me that! I must go to him! He may be sick or dead, all alone in his cabin!"

"Now don't you go to fretting, son," said Mr. Kent kindly. "You just come away from here and go to bed. You're all tired out and worried. This thing will all come out right. The old man may not be so bad off as he seems. We'll get a doctor for him, and he'll fix him up so he can tell you where your father is. If he doesn't I'll send the boys out, and they'll go over all the mountain ranges hereabouts. They can find a maverick in the wildest country you ever saw, and it would be a pity if they couldn't locate a cabin, with all you know about where it is."

Jack felt encouraged at this, and said he would go to bed and try to sleep. His companions had retired, as he learned when he got back to the sitting room.

"I'll give you a room on the quiet side of the house," said Mr. Kent. "You can change after to-night if you like."

He rang a bell, summoning the Chinese cook, who it appeared "was housekeeper and general upstairs girl as well," and gave orders that a certain room should be made ready for Jack.

"That loom, him sleep by Cactus Ike," said the Chinese.

"Never mind whether Cactus Ike is going to sleep there or not," said Mr, Kent sharply. "You tell Ike he can bunk in with the rest of the boys. He's no better than they are."

"Me sabe," replied the Celestial.

Jack was too tired to pay much attention to this conversation. Nor did he attach any significance to a talk he heard under his windows a little later.

"What's the matter with Ike?" he dimly heard some one ask.

"Mad 'cause he got turned out of his room for one of them tenderfoot kids," was the answer. "I wouldn't want to get Ike down on me."

"Aw, he's a big bluff."

"He is, eh? Well, you wait."

But, in spite of his troubles and worriment over his father, Jack was soon asleep from sheer weariness, and when morning came he forgot there was such a person as Cactus Ike.

A doctor arrived from Fillmore about breakfast time and examined Mr. Lantry. He said the old man was very sick, and would be for some time. He was out of his head, from fever, and might be so for three weeks. With careful nursing he would recover, said the medical man, and he left some remedies.

"We'll see that he gets well," spoke Mr. Kent. "I'll have the cook look after him, for I guess it will be hard to get a nurse out here."

"If he only recovers his reason, so he can tell me what I want to know," Jack murmured.

"Oh, he will," said Nat's uncle, confidently. "In the meanwhile you will have to be patient. Your father is in no danger now, for his partner did not count on getting back in over a month, and there was medicine enough in the cabin to last until then. Otherwise there is nothing to fear. You tell me the land stealers can't find the shack, so what else is there to worry about?"

"Nothing, I suppose," replied Jack, but, somehow, he couldn't help worrying.

"Cheer up," said Mr. Kent. "We'll get your father for you. In the meantime while we are waiting for the old man to get well you must learn ranch life, and get good and strong, so that if you do have to take part in a hunt for him you will be able to stand roughing it."

Jack thought this was good advice, as did his chums. They raced out of the house after breakfast, determined to see all there was to see. But this, they found, would take a long time.

Mr. Kent's ranch took in about a thousand acres. Some of it was on the first plateau, and part among the hills, where the cattle grazed. Besides the house, there were stables for the horses, kennels for the dogs, a cook house, a dining shack, the sides of which could be thrown open in the summer, barns for hay and grain, and a big tall windmill that pumped water.

"Can we have regular horses while we're here?" asked Nat of his uncle, as he and his chums started for the stable yard.

"Sure," replied Mr. Kent "You just go over there and tell Rattlesnake Jim I said he was to fit you out with a horse and saddle each. He knows which will be the best for you, better than I do. I don't have time to keep track of the animals. I'm going to be busy all the morning, so you can do as you please, within reason. Don't stampede the cattle, that's all," and he turned away with a laugh.

The boys looked around the stable enclosure for their friend Jim, but he was not to be seen.

"Lookin' for any one?" inquired a tall cowboy, who appeared from under the shed. He had small, black shifty eyes, and when he spoke he looked anywhere but at one.

"Where's Mr.—er—Mr. Rattlesnake Jim?" asked Nat. He was not exactly sure how to address, or speak of the cowboys with their queer titles.

"Jim? Oh, he's gone over on the Spring range. Was you wantin' anything?"

"Only some horses," said Nat.

"Oh, you're the boys," spoke the man. "Did Mr. Kent say you are to have 'em?"

"Uncle Morris said Jim would give us horses to ride," Nat went on.

"Well, I guess I can pick 'em out for you," the man said. "One of you boys named Ranger?"

"I am," said Jack,

"Oh, yes, you're a friend of the old man who was shot," went on the cowboy as he entered the stable. "Well, I'll pick out horses I think'll suit."

He disappeared into the regions of the stalls, and soon came out, leading a fine black horse. He threw a saddle over its back. The animal seemed a bit restive.

"Here's your horse, Ranger," the cowboy called.

"Is he safe?" asked Jack. "I'm not a very good rider."

"A girl could manage him," was the answer. "See, he's as gentle as a lamb," and so it seemed for the man opened the animal's mouth and put his hand in.

Thus encouraged, Jack mounted, and the horse moved off at a slow pace.

"I guess he's all right," Jack thought

In a few more minutes two more horses were saddled, and Nat and John had mounted.

"Now for a good gallop over the plain," called Nat, as he led the way from the stable yard.

Jack was the last to ride forth. As he was passing the gate that closed the corral he heard some one call to the man who had just saddled the steeds:

"Who'd you give the black horse to, Ike?"

"None of your business," was the reply. "I'm running this game."

"Ike," thought Jack. "I wonder where I heard that name before." Then the memory of the conversation under his window came to him. "Oh, well, guess it's all right to have this horse," the boy thought. "I can't harm him."

As the cowboy turned back into the stable a grim smile passed over his face.

"Good gallop!" he muttered. "Lucky if you don't break your neck."

"Come on! I'll race you!" called Nat, and the three boys were soon speeding over the level plain.



CHAPTER XXVI

JACK'S WILD RIDE

The boys thought they had never been on such fine horses. The animals had an easy gallop that carried one over the ground at a rapid pace, yet which was not hard for a beginner.

"Talk about your sport!" exclaimed Jack. "This is glorious; eh, John?"

"Best thing I ever struck," replied the Indian. "I feel like my wild ancestors, riding forth to battle. Whoop! la Whoopee! Whoop ah Whoope! Wow! Wow!! Wow!"

It was a regular Indian war-cry that issued from John's mouth, and, leaning forward on his horse's neck, he urged the beast to a terrific pace.

No sooner had the strange cry vibrated through the air than Jack's horse gave a bound that nearly unseated its rider. It leaped forward so suddenly that Jack was almost flung off backward. Then the steed, taking the bit in its teeth, bolted like the wind. Jack recovered himself with much difficulty. He tried to sit upright, but found he had not skill enough for the task. There was nothing for it but to lean forward and clasp the horse about the neck. In this way he was safe, for a time, from being tossed off.

The horse turned from its straight course and began to gallop around in a large circle. Then it made sudden dashes to the right and left, turning so quickly that several times Jack was nearly thrown off.

"The horse is mad!" cried Nat, urging his own steed forward, with an idea of trying to catch the one Jack rode.

The animal's next move seemed to bear this out. It reared on its hind legs and pawed the air with its powerful fore-feet. Jack would have been thrown off, but for the tight neck-hold he had. Next the beast kicked its hind feet into the air, and Jack came near sliding to the neck.

"Drop off!" cried Nat.

"Stay on!" shouted John, who, seeing his friend's plight, had turned and was riding back.

"He'll be killed if he stays on," shouted Nat.

"Yes, and he'll be trampled to death if he leaps off," called back John. "He's a balky horse, I guess."

"I think he's a mad one."

The next instant the animal, that had been rushing straight ahead, came to such an abrupt halt that Jack was actually flung from the saddle. He went right up into the air and slid along the horse's side. Only the grip he had of the neck and the mane saved him from falling. Before the horse could make another start the boy had wiggled back to his seat.

Then came what was probably the hardest part of it all. The horse gathered its four feet under it and rose straight up in the air, coming down with legs stiff as sticks. Jack was not prepared for this and the resulting jar nearly knocked the breath from him.

"He's a bucking bronco!" cried John. "Rise in your stirrups when he lands next time."

This Jack did, with the result that the jar came on his legs, and was not so bad.

Finding it could not thus rid itself of it's persistent rider, the horse began to run straight ahead again. It went so fast that the wind whistled in Jack's ears, and he was in fear lest he be thrown off at this terrific speed, and injured. He held on for dear life.

But the horse had still another trick. Stopping again with a suddenness that nearly unseated Jack, it dropped to the ground and started to roll over, hoping to crush the boy on its back.

"Get out of the way, quick!" called John, who was watching every move.

Jack did so, just in time to escape having his leg broken.

"The horse must be crazy," said Nat, who had never seen such antics in a steed before.

"There's some reason for it," commented John. "There he goes!"

The horse was up an instant later, and dashed off, but had not gone a hundred yards before the saddle fell to the ground, the holding straps having broken. At this the animal stopped, and seemed all over its excitement.

"That's funny," said John. He dismounted from his horse and ran toward Jack's animal. The horse allowed himself to be taken by the briddle and lead, showing no sign of fear. John bent over and was examining the saddle.

"I guess your yell must have scared him," spoke Jack. "It was the worst I ever heard."

"It wasn't that," replied John. "Western horses are used to all sorts of yells. Ah, I thought so," he went on, "this explains it."

He pulled something from the underside of the pad and held it up to view. It was a long cactus thorn.

"That was what bothered the horse," John said. "It must have been torture to have any one on the saddle. See there," and he pointed to several drops of blood on the animal's back.

"Why didn't it act so as soon as I got on?" asked Jack.

"Some one has played a trick," said John "See, the thorn was trapped in cloth, so the point would not work through until the horse had been ridden some distance. I wonder who did it, and what for?"

"I know," Jack exclaimed, as the memory of the talk under his window the night previous came to him. "It was Cactus Ike," and he told what he had heard. "He wanted to get even with me for having been the cause of his being turned out of his room. No wonder they call him Cactus Ike."

"I'll tell uncle Morris," cried Nat.

"No, say nothing about it," counseled John. "We'll get square in our own way. Pretend nothing happened. If Ike asks us how we liked the ride, we'll never let on we had any trouble. It will keep him guessing."

The broken straps were repaired and, by making a pad of his handkerchief Jack was able to adjust the saddle without causing the horse any pain. The animal seemed quite friendly, after all the excitement, which was only caused by its efforts to get rid of the terrible thorn that was driving it frantic. In its roll it had accomplished this, and had no further objection to carrying a boy on its back.

Cactus Ike cast several inquiring glances at the lads as they rode into the ranch yard about an hour later. But he did not ask any questions. As the chums were going toward the house Jack heard one of the cowboys remark to Ike:

"The black horse looks as if it had been ridden pretty hard."

"I'll make him ride harder next time," muttered Ike, but whether he referred to the horse or to himself, Jack was not sure. He watched and saw Ike looking at the sore on the animal, over which the boy's handkerchief was still spread. Jack's first inquiry was as to the condition of Old Peter Lantry.

"He's no better," replied Mr. Kent "You'll have to be patient, Jack. All things come to him who waits. Did you have a good ride?"

"I got lots of practice," replied Jack, not caring to go into details.

"Can't get too much of it," replied Nat's uncle. "You can see some good examples this afternoon."

"How's that?" asked Nat.

"Some of the boys are going to have a little sport among themselves," replied his uncle. "They do every once in a while when the work gets slack. They're coming in from some of the outlying ranches, about forty of 'em, I guess."

"What'll they do?" asked Jack.

"You'll see," replied Mr. Kent.

Before dinner time the cowboys began arriving. And in what a hurly- burly manner did they come! On their fleet horses or cow-ponies they rode along the trails as if it was in the early days and a tribe of wild Indians was after them. They came up on the gallop, shouting, yelling, and firing their big revolvers off into the air.

Up they would rush, almost to the porch that surrounded the house. Then they would suddenly pull their horses back on their haunches and leap off with a whoop, the well-trained beasts standing stock-still when the bridle was thrown over their heads.

Then began such play as the boys had never seen before,—such riding as is not even seen in the best of the Wild West shows. The men seemed part of the horses they bestrode, as the animals fairly flew over the ground.

"If we could only do that!" exclaimed Nat.

"Maybe we can, with practice," said Jack. "John has learned a lot already."

"But he knew some before he came here," replied Nat.

The men had impromptu contests to see who could pick up the most handkerchiefs from the ground, leaning from their saddles as their horses galloped past. They picked up potatoes in the same way. They roped wild steers, dropping the lariat over a designated horn or leg, and throwing the animal on whichever side the judge suddenly called on them to do.

Then such shooting at marks as there was! The men used their revolvers with almost the skill of rifles. They cut cards, punctured cans tossed high in the air, and clipped upright sticks at distances from which the boys could scarcely make out the marks.

It was an afternoon of wild, exciting, blood-stirring and yet healthy, clean fun, and the boys were so worked up they hardly knew whether they were standing on their heads or their feet.

The last contest of the day had been called. It was a test between two of the most skillful cowboys, to see who could lasso the other. As they were circling around on their horses, each seeking an opening, there came dashing up the road a man, on a foam-flecked steed. He put the horse right at the fence, which it leaped, and rode to where Mr. Kent stood.

"The cattle on the upper range have stampeded!" he yelled. "They're headed for the canyon!"

"Here boys!" shouted Mr. Kent. "Sharp work now! Send my horse here! We must head 'em off!"



CHAPTER XXVII

THE CATTLE STAMPEDE

If there had been confusion and excitement before there was more of it now. Yet no one lost his head. There was a way of going about it, and though it seemed as if everyone was running here and there, without an object, there was a well-worked-out system evident.

The cowboys began looking to their saddle girths, for there was hard riding ahead of them. Some ran to the supply house for extra cartridges, and these were hurriedly thrust into belts or pockets. Coats and hats that had been discarded were donned, and several men began packing up some bacon and hardtack, while others strapped simple camp outfits back of their saddles, for there was no telling how long they would be obliged to be on the trail.

"Come on! Let's go!" cried Jack, and he and his two chums raced for the stables.

"Will they let us, do you think?" asked John, whose eyes sparkled at the thought of the chase.

"Of course," replied Nat. "Uncle said he wanted us to learn the ranch business. I'll ask him."

But Nat did not get a chance. Mr. Kent was too busy preparing to ride after his stampeded cattle to pay any attention to the three boys. It is doubtful if he thought of them.

So the chums, without further permission than Nat's idea that it would be all right, saddled their horses, Jack taking the black which he had come to like very much. They rode from the corral and out on the road that led to the north where the upper range lay. The lads at once found themselves in the rear of a galloping throng of cowboys.

"Come on, let's get up ahead," shouted Nat, and they urged their horses forward, passing the others. When they were almost in the van a voice hailed them:

"Where you boys going?"

They turned, to see Mr. Kent riding toward them.

"Oh," said Nat, a little confused. "We thought you'd want us to go to learn how to manage a herd of cattle."

"Manage stampeding cattle," muttered Mr. Kent. "You boys must be crazy. But it's too late to send you back, I suppose. Only don't ride your horses to death the first thing. You've got lots of work ahead of you."

With this encouragement the chums dropped back, listening to the talk of the cowboys about what was ahead of them.

"Remember the last stampede," one tall lanky rider asked his neighbor, who was nearly the same build.

"The one where Loony Pete was trampled to death?"

"That's the one. The steers sure made mincemeat of him all right. Hope no one gets down under foot this trip."

The boys looked at each other. This was a more dangerous undertaking than they had anticipated.

The riders advanced at an even, if not rapid pace. The cowboys as their horses ambled on were loading revolvers, looking to their lariats, tightening the packs which they carried on the back of their saddles, and making ready for the hard task ahead of them.

From listening to the talk, the boys learned that the upper range was about five miles distant, and was where the choicest cattle were herded, preparatory to being shipped away. The range was a big one, but, about ten miles from it, was a deep and dangerous canyon, at the beginning of the hills, which as they grew larger became the range of Golden Glow mountains. It was toward this canyon that the steers were headed, in a wild, unreasoning rush.

It seemed impossible for the cowboys to get ahead of them in time to head them off. But the cattle had a longer way to travel than did the men, and the latter could take a diagonal course and, if they had luck, reach the edge of the canyon first. It was planned to get between the oncoming herd and the edge of the gulch, and turn the steers back, if possible.

"Better hit up the pace!" exclaimed Mr. Kent, when they had ridden several miles. "We don't want to be too late."

The boys, realized, as did the men, that if the cattle, in their rush, reached the canyon, they would pile up in the bottom, and hundreds would be killed.

The horses were now galloped and the cavalcade raised quite a dust as it hastened over the prairie. The men began lossening the revolvers in their belts, and several unslung their lariats, ready for instant use. In about half an hour they began to ascend a slight rise that led to a plateau which extended into the range. Ahead of them, and about two miles to their right, lay the gulch.

"Well, we're here first!" exclaimed Mr. Kent, as he topped the rise and glanced to the left.

"Hark!" cried Rattlesnake Jim, who rode next to him. "I hear 'em!"

A noise like distant thunder sounded over the plain. Then, about three miles away, there arose something that looked like a dark cloud.

The sound of thunder came nearer. The dust cloud was plainly to be seen. Right ahead, so as to cross it on the slant, rode the group of men. The boys were in the rear. Mr. Kent gave a glance back and saw them. He shouted something but the chums could not hear him amid the pounding of hoofs. They saw the ranchman make signals, but did not understand them.

Then they saw several men from the front rank of the cowboys circle around and come up behind them.

"You young rascals!" exclaimed Rattlesnake Jim. "You ought to be spanked for coming along! Mr. Kent says to keep in the middle now. We're going to ride behind and keep your horses on the go. If they lag behind you're liable to be killed!"

Things began to look serious now. The lads found themselves in the midst of a throng of cowboys, and the horses of the chums, being surrounded by steeds ridden by experienced cattlemen, picked up their pace and went forward on the rush.

Closer and closer approached the dark cloud. Nearer and nearer sounded the thunderous pounding of hoofs. Then, as the boys looked, they could see through the dust that was blown aside by a puff of wind, thousands of cattle, with heads on which flashed long, sharp, wide-spreading horns, rushing madly along.

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled a score of cowboys.

Bang! Bang! Bang! spoke a score of big revolvers.

"Right across now!" yelled Mr. Kent. "Try and turn 'em! If we don't do it, then back again, once more!"

Then began such a ride as the boys had never dreamed of. Across the ragged front of the maddened animals the men urged their horses on a long slant. Lying low in their saddles, holding on with one hand, and firing revolvers with the other, the cowboys rode, there being no need to guide the trained horses.

Bang! Bang! Bang! It was like a skirmish line firing on the enemy. The boys, who had secured revolvers as they rushed to the stables, fired as the men did, right in the faces of the advancing steers. The cartridges were blank, but so close were some of the men that the burning wadding struck the cattle.

Could they stop the rush? Could the maddened and frightened steers be halted before they plunged over the cliffs?

The line of cattle was about a quarter of a mile wide. In less than two minutes the cowboys, with the three chums in their midst, had swept across it. But the steers had not stopped. They were several hundred feet nearer the canyon, which now was but a mile away. There would be time for but one, or possibly two more attempts, and then it would be too late.

But the cowboys never halted. Wheeling sharply, they dashed once more across the front of the steers. Their yells were wilder than ever, and the shooting was a continuous rattle.

"Rope some on the edges!" yelled Mr. Kent.

At that some of the cowboys rode back and, whirling their lariats above their heads, sent the coils about the horns of some on the left fringe. The animals went down in a heap, right in the midst and under the hoofs of the others. Of course they were trampled to death, but this was the means of causing a number to stumble and fall, and so halt those back of them.

This could only be done on the two outer edges. To have attempted this in the center of the stampeding herd would have meant death for the cowboy who tried it.

The second dash across the front had been made, and the frightened cattle had not been more than momentarily stopped. They were still rushing toward the cliff.

"Once more!" called Mr. Kent. "This is our last chance!"

The canyon was hut a quarter of a mile away, If the rush was not stopped now, it meant the death of many valuable animals, and the possible scattering of the herd.

Again across the front, bristling with waving horns, rode the brave men. Their revolvers spat out fire and the smoke almost obscured the oncoming steers. The men yelled until their throats were parched.

"Make a stand! Make a stand!" yelled Mr. Kent.

The cowboys bunched together, riding their horses in a circle, the center of which was the boys. For a moment it seemed as if death was coming to meet them on the wings of the wind.



CHAPTER XXVIII

HUNTING MOUNTAIN LIONS

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled the cowboys, in desperation.

To the noise John added his Indian warwhoop, and again the men began firing revolvers, which had been rapidly reloaded. It was a critical moment. It was the turning point of the stampede. Back, back, back the rushing cattle forced the men, who still kept circling. Now the canyon was but two hundred feet away.

And then, almost as suddenly as it had been started, the stampede was over. The foremost cattle slowed up. They raised their heads, and bellowed. For a few seconds the front line was pushed ahead by those behind. Then all through the herd seemed to go a message that the run was over.

Plowing the dirt up with their feet, as they vainly tried to stop, but could not because of the push that still was exerted behind them, the foremost cattle advanced nearly to the knot of horsemen. But the cowboys did not budge, knowing it was ended now. Then, with loud shouts and waving hats they turned the herd so that it circled around and was started back toward the range.

So close were the rear men to the canyon, when this had been done that they could have tossed a stone down into the depths.

"Narrow squeak, that!" observed Rattlesnake Jim, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a big red handkerchief. "'Bout as close as I want 'em," observed Mr. Kent. "I wonder what started 'em off this way."

"Maybe it was mountain lions," said Jim. "I heard there was quite a few around lately, looking for nice juicy young calves."

"It wasn't lions that started 'em this time," said the man who had brought word of the stampede, and who had ridden with the others from the ranch.

"What was it then?" asked Mr. Kent.

"It was done by two men, so some of the boys told me, just before I started out," replied the messenger. "They said they saw a couple of strangers hanging about the range the other night, but didn't think anything of it. We were all in the range house this morning, getting breakfast, when, all of a sudden, the steers started off."

"But what made 'em &o?" asked Mr. Kent.

"Some of the boys saw these strange men starting a fire close to some of the cows," explained the messenger. "The grass was dry, and, in one place it burned quite hard. Some of the steers got scorched before they knew what was happening, and they went off on the dead run. The two men trampled out the fire, and ran away. The boys started after the cattle, and sent me on to tell you."

"This will have to be looked into," murmured Mr. Kent. "But now let's get the cattle back on the range."

It was nearly dusk when this had been accomplished, and it was a tired and weary throng of men and boys that started for the ranch house in the gathering twilight. The horses could only amble along, for the strain had been hard on them as well as on the men.

The next few days the boys spent in going about the ranch, close to the house. They were much in company with Rattlesnake Jim, who took pleasure in telling them things all good cowboys should know. He showed them how to make a lariat, and even instructed them a bit in its use, though John needed but few lessons to become almost as expert as his teacher. Jim told them the best way to camp out on the plains at night, how to make their fires, and warned them to be careful not to set the grass ablaze in dry weather. He also showed them how to tether their horses, the best way of adjusting a saddle, and instructed them in the art of finding their way at night by the stars.

In short the boys learned more in a few days from Jim than they could have picked up alone in a month. They were so enthusiastic that they would have sat up all night listening to their new teacher.

As for riding, the lads improved very much as Jim showed them how to mount, how to sit, how to guide the horse by the mere pressure of the knees, and other tricks of which a "tenderfoot" never dreams.

After supper, one evening, when the boys, Mr. Kent and Rattlesnake Jim were in the sitting room, a common resting place for all on the ranch, Jack asked:

"Are there really mountain lions around here?"

"There used to be," said Mr. Kent, "but I haven't seen any lately."

"I heard some of the boys from the upper range say they heard 'em, a few nights ago," spoke Jim.

"That ought to be looked into," said Mr. Kent. "They're nasty customers to get among a herd."

"Can't we go hunting 'em?" asked Nat.

"What do you know about hunting mountain lions?" asked his uncle. "They'd eat you up."

"Not if we took Jim along," put in Jack.

"I shot a lynx once," said John.

"That's nothing like a mountain lion," Mr. Kent remarked.

"Can't we go?" pleaded Nat.

"I'll see about it," his uncle answered.

He did see about it, with such good effect that, a few days later he called the boys in and showed them three fine rifles.

"Can you shoot?" he asked.

"A little," they replied, wondering what was coming.

"Then take these and see if you and Jim can bag a few lions," Mr, Kent went on. "I hear they got a couple of calves last night. Now— now—never mind thanking me," as the boys fairly stuttered their expressions of surprise and happiness. "Better see Jim and get ready."

The boys lost no time in doing this. They found Jim almost as pleased as they were. The cowboy at once began preparing a camping outfit, and that night he announced they would start in the morning.