The stern-faced stranger grinned appreciatively.

"You are not the fellows who came in at State Line the other day, are you?"

"Ye—-yes, we're the bu—-bu—-bunch."

"Oh, fudge!" groaned the stranger. "And to think I've been to all this trouble to round up a bunch of tenderfeet." The man thrust his revolver into its holster with a grunt of disgust.

"I'm Withem," he snapped.

"So am I," answered Chunky.

"I said, 'I'm Withem,'" repeated the stranger.

"I said I was too," reiterated the fat boy.

"Look here, what are you trying to get at, young man?" demanded the newcomer with a slight show of irritation. "Are you trying to make sport of me?"

"N—-n——no. You said you were with them—-with us—-with the crowd, you know. And I said I was too."

The stranger tilted back his head and laughed softly.

"You little cayuse, my name is Withem. W—-I—-T—-H—-E——M!" he spelled.

"Oh!"

A broad smile grew on the face of the Pony Rider Boy as he asked:

"What do you reckon you want here?"

"I'm just looking around a bit. I think I'll go to your camp with you."

Stacy surveyed his companion critically from head to foot.

"All right," he said. "If you want to take the chance, I'm willing."

"What chance?" demanded the stranger.

"Tad Butler might take it into his head to throw you out, or something, if he doesn't like your looks."

"I'll take the chance."

"All right; come on. But mind you, it'll be the worse for you if you try to start anything. We're a bad lot, we are, and don't you forget it."

A moment or so later the Pony Rider Boys were amazed to see Stacy strutting in with a stranger in tow.

"He's with us fellows," was the fat boy's announcement.

"Withem's my name," corrected the stranger.

"Yes, he's with 'em. But he hasn't said who it is he is with. I thought I was with him when he shoved a pistol under my nose."

"Good evening, sir," said Tad stepping up, directing a quick, keen glance of inquiry into the eyes of the newcomer. In that one glance Butler decided that the man was all right. It was a relief to see a face like that after their experience with the mountaineer.

As for the prisoner himself, who lay back in a shadow now, he started violently the instant he beheld the man who had just come into the camp of the Pony Rider Boys. The prisoner looked as if he had a severe case of ague for he fairly shrank within himself.

"You are just in time to join us for a bite, Mr. Withem. That is your name, is it not?"

"That's my name."

"Mine is Tad Butler. This is Professor Zepplin. The young man with whom you came in is Stacy Brown, otherwise Chunky, and here are Mr. Rector and Mr. Perkins. If you will gather around the fire I'll serve the chuck."

"Thanks, young man. You certainly know how to do the honors, as well as how to fry bacon. I could smell that across a county and I'd ride to it as fast as horseflesh could carry me."

"Are you from these parts?" asked the professor after they had seated themselves on the ground.

"Yes, I'm from everywhere," laughed Withem. "By the way, young man, that looks like the mark of a bullet on your cheek," he continued, bending a keen glance on Stacy.

"Then it looks like what it is," muttered the fat boy.

"I don't want to be inquisitive, but—-"

"No, it isn't considered good manners to be too curious down in this country, I've heard."

"Right you are, yonnker," laughed Withem, in which the others joined heartily. "Men have been known to get into trouble by being too curious, especially down on the Rio Grande. The——-"

The visitor's conversation was interrupted by something falling over from beside the tree against which he was sitting. That something was the rifle the boys had taken from the prisoner.

Withem picked up the gun with the purpose of replacing it. He was just standing it against the tree when suddenly he stopped, bringing the gun around in front of him where he could get a better view of it.

The Pony Rider Boys were regarding him questioningly, Tad almost suspiciously. Chunky was wondering if their visitor was going to shoot. The fat boy was ready to run at the first sign of trouble. He had stopped enough bullets for one day. As for the prisoner, his bloodshot eyes were taking in every movement of the man Withem.

"You seem to be much interested," suggested Tad.

Withem flashed a keen, searching look into Butler's face.

"I am."

"Why that's——-" began Walter, then subsided at a warning look from Tad.

"Pardon me, but will you be good enough to tell me where you got this rifle? I have good and sufficient reasons for asking the question," said Withem almost sternly.

"We took it from a man who had set out to shoot us up, sir," replied Butler.

"Tried to shoot you up? When? Where?" demanded the visitor with a trace of excitement in his tone.

"This afternoon and to-night. Stacy Brown's cheek bears evidence of the fellow's marksmanship. It seems the man took us to be officers—-Rangers, he said."

"Then you—-you talked with him?"

"We did," answered Tad with a twinkle in his eyes. "In fact we held quite a lengthy conversation with the gentleman."

"Explain what you are getting at." Withem was deeply interested in the scant information that had been given to him. They saw that he was containing himself with difficulty.

"Tell, Mr. Withem. Don't beat about the bush," advised the professor.

"Yes; tell me what became of the fellow who shot you up," urged the visitor.

"What became of him, sir?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Why we caught and made him prisoner."

"What!"

"Yes, sir, and we have him now," smiled Tad Butler.

"You've got him now? Where is he?" roared the visitor springing to his feet, permitting the captured weapon to fall to the ground.

"He is over there in the bushes," said Tad. "However, I think you had better wait until I get over there before you pay him a visit. I have a sort of proprietary interest in that fellow and I don't propose to have any monkey business. He nearly killed Professor Zepplin, bound though he is. Wait one moment, please. Why do you wish to see the man?"

"Because I think I know him. Gentlemen, I am a Ranger. I am Lieutenant Joe Withem, and I have good reasons to believe your prisoner is a man whom I have been anxious to meet for some time. I am ready to be shown."

Tad wonderingly led the way over to their captive, the lieutenant following in quick, nervous strides, the others of the party bringing up the rear, Chunky lugging a rifle which he kept in position for instant use in case the stranger should seek to liberate their prisoner. But there was little danger of Lieutenant Joe Withem doing anything of the sort,



CHAPTER VIII

A MUCH-WANTED DESPERADO

Tad had snatched a burning brand from the fire, carrying it along with him so that Withem might get a good look at the prisoner. The lad considered it a fortunate coincidence that the Ranger lieutenant should have visited their camp at that particular time.

The instant Withem set eyes on the prisoner he uttered an exclamation under his breath, while the prisoner glared up at him with menacing eyes.

"Hullo, Dunk," greeted the Ranger. "You seem to be in limbo. I reckon you bit off more'n you could chew, for once in your life. Thought you were shooting up Rangers, did you? Instead you barked up against some tenderfeet who were too much for you. I guess you ain't quite so smart as you thought you were."

"I reckon you've made a mistake," growled the prisoner. "I don't know what you're chewing about."

"That's all right, Dunk. I don't reckon it makes any difference what you think about it. We've got you hard and fast, and you're done for. I reckon, too, that the captain will be glad to see you. He'll have a warm welcome for you, you bet. They certainly have you tied up for keeps," laughed the lieutenant, bending over to examine the prisoner's bonds. "They certainly have. Come on, let's finish that bacon," added the Ranger straightening up.

The party took its way back to the campfire, Stacy disgustedly throwing his gun on the ground at the foot of the tree where lay the prisoner's rifle.

"Now, sir, perhaps you will explain who and what this man is? You appear to be well acquainted with him," said the professor.

"I am that. But how did you get him?"

"Master Tad there will answer that question. He and Rector made the capture."

"You two younkers caught that man?" wondered the lieutenant.

"Yes, sir," replied Tad modestly. "But I'll admit that it was a pretty tough job. He nearly got us."

"Tell me about it."

Tad did so briefly, making as little of his own achievement as possible. He related also, how the prisoner had gained possession of Professor Zepplin's revolver and of the latter's narrow escape from death.

"Boys, you've done a big thing. The captain will be interested in you," said Mr. Withem. "He's been wanting this man for a long time."

"You haven't told us who the fellow is, yet," reminded Professor Zepplin.

"He is Dunk Tucker, sir, one of the most dangerous customers infesting the border. We have been on his trail for weeks, but he's managed to give us the slip every time. We never expected to capture him alive. We expected to have to shoot him on sight, which we probably would have done."

"Is it possible?" murmured the professor. "I did not suppose such conditions existed on the border at this late day."

"They do not, ordinarily."

"What has the man Tucker done?"

"Done? It would be easier to tell you what he hasn't done. He's committed pretty nearly every crime in the calendar and some that aren't in the almanac. He is one of a band of thieves that has been operating on the border for months. They are smugglers and thieves. They have even gone back to the old style of stock stealing. Up to date it is estimated that they have run across the border into Mexico several hundred head of stock. The ranchers are up in arms. The Rangers have been called in to put the Border Bandits out of business. This is the first one of the gang that we have captured. And, after all, we didn't capture him. That was left for a bunch of plucky young tenderfeet—-two of them, to be exact.

"Furthermore, it is suspected that Dunk and some of the other bad men of his crowd are in the pay of German agents in Mexico. The Germans are trying to stir up trouble on this side of the line, and these border ruffians are ready to do anything for the sake of easy money, even at the expense of being traitors to their country. It is believed that German money is finding its way into their pockets. The hounds!" raged the Ranger.

"Surely these men have not resorted to force—-committed murder or anything of that sort?" interposed the professor.

"Not that we know of, though some of them did have a pitched battle with a rancher over on the western border of the state. A few stopped bullets, but so far as we know no one was killed. I am telling you all this in confidence. There are a good many in this thing whose names we do not know."

"You can make the prisoner confess, can you not?" asked Professor Zepplin.

"Confess?" the lieutenant laughed. "You don't know these Border Bandits. No, they never confess. There will always be more or less trouble down on the Rio Grande. It is so close to Mexico, so easy to get across the border that bad men cannot resist taking advantage of it. That is why the Rangers are still in business. If it were not for the border we all should be looking for other jobs. As it is there aren't many of us left."

"How many?" asked the professor.

"Some thirty in the state, that is all. We are subject to the orders of the governor, though we're left pretty much to ourselves."

"Who is your commander?"

"Captain Billy McKay."

"That's the man Dunk named. He accused us of belonging to McKay's band of Rangers," said Rector.

"He did, eh?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. Still, he might have shot you up just the same, even if he had known you hadn't anything to do with us."

"Where is the rest of your party, Mr. Withem?" asked Tad.

"They're out on the trail," was the somewhat evasive answer. "I'll get in touch with them sometime to-night or to-morrow."

"But you will take Tucker with you, will you not?" asked Ned.

"I reckon I will," laughed the Ranger.

"Shall we take him along for you? You have no horse?" asked Tad.

"My nag isn't far from here," smiled the lieutenant. "I'll load him on like a sack of meal. He'll get a good shaking up, but it won't hurt Dunk. He's too tough to be bothered by a little thing like that. We'll land him in the calaboose in El Paso by the day after to-morrow. Where are you folks going?"

"We planned to do the Guadalupes, then go on down to the Rio Grande," answered Professor Zepplin.

Withem reflected.

"I reckon the captain will be wanting to see you. There's a reward out for Dunk. Captain Bill is on the square. He'll 'divvy' with you fairly."

"We are not looking for any rewards," spoke up Tad quickly. "You may tell him that whatever reward is paid, belongs to the Rangers. We are glad to have served you, but remember, we did so to save our own skins."

Withem extended his hand, grasping Tad's hand within it.

"You're the right sort, young man. I wish we had you with us."

"In the Rangers?"

"Yes, of course."

"I am afraid that would not be possible," smiled the Pony Rider Boy.

"Wholly impossible," affirmed Professor Zepplin with emphasis.

"I suppose so. However, I want you to see the captain. I'll tell you what to do." The lieutenant lowered his voice. "We will be in camp to-morrow night about twenty-five miles to the southwest of here. Know where Doble's Spring is?"

"No, sir."

"You can find it. The water gushes out of the rocks pretty high up, falling in a sort of spray. You can't miss the place. You'll hear it if it's after dark when you get there."

"And, further, you'll probably see a campfire, but sing out before you come in too close. Some of our boys are rather sudden when they're interrupted at night," grinned the Ranger.

"I should call it violent," declared Stacy. "The way you poked that pistol in my face back there was a caution. You nearly scared me out of a week's growth."

No one paid any attention to Chunky's interruption.

"Will your captain be there?" asked the professor.

"I reckon he will But I can't tell for sure. McKay is a pretty busy man. You don't know where to find him. He may be here to-night. and to-morrow morning he may be sixty or seventy miles away. You can't tell about Billy McKay."

"Is there any danger of our having difficulties with any of this fellow's companions?" asked the professor apprehensively.

"I reckon not. At least there won't be after you have come up with our party. We'll see to that."

"Where are their headquarters—-in these mountains?" questioned Tad.

"We don't know. That's what we're trying to find out. We have reckoned they had their hang-out here, but we haven't found it yet"

"How many are in this band of Border Bandits?" asked Butler.

"There are some that we don't know. We do know a few of them, however. For instance, there's the Mexican, Espinoso, known as the 'Yellow Kid.' Then there's Greg. Gonzales, a half-breed Mex bandit, and Willie Jones."

"Willie Jones! That's a funny name," laughed Stacy. "That doesn't sound very savage. I shouldn't be afraid of a fellow with a name like that."

"You would if you knew him. Willie is a dude. He dresses like a city fellow with all the frills he can pile on, and he has the manners of a city chap too. But you look out for Willie. There isn't a colder blooded man in the state than Willie Jones. He's quick as lightning on the gun and can hit a bull's-eye with his own eyes shut."

"If he is any worse than our prisoner over there, I don't think I care to make his acquaintance," replied Butler with a laugh.

"He is, young man. You'd know Dunk to be a bad man the first time you saw him. You wouldn't think it of Willie and by the time you get him sized up, it's too late to do you any good. I hope you don't meet with Willie and try to land him. If you do you'll be carried out on a litter, reduced to a pulp."

"Br—-r——r—-r!" shivered Chunky.

"Where—-where is this bad man supposed to hide himself?" asked the professor.

"I wish I knew," sighed the Ranger. "It would be worth a cold thousand dollars to me and perhaps some more. There's a price on Willie's head. But what's the use speculating about it? We'll get him some day, but he'll be a dead one when we do. I'd a sight rather capture him alive."

The boys listened to all this with deep interest. They had never come in contact with such cold-blooded discussion over human lives. They began to understand something of the things they had read concerning conditions in the Lone Star State in the early days when men's passions ran riot; when practically the only law of the land was the law of the gun. Now, conditions had changed. It was only in certain localities that lawlessness reigned in Texas, but these were bad spots, as evidenced by the presence of the Rangers, that intrepid body of men that for thirty years had been the terror of evildoers. The Rangers were pitted against a worthy foe in this instance, though it was a certainty that in time the Rangers would get their men, either dead or alive.

"And now I reckon I'll be going," decided the lieutenant, after having partaken heartily of the appetizing meal. "I'll be expecting you at the Spring when we get there to-morrow."

"Thank you; we will endeavor to be there. It will be a pleasure to meet your commander. We may get some useful advice from him."

"We'll bring up your horse if you will tell us where he is," offered Tad.

"Thanks, pard. He's on the other side of the creek about fifteen rods from here."

Accompanied by Ned, Tad hurried down, but found some difficulty in locating the horse, so carefully had the animal been secreted. Withem smiled when he saw them coming back.

"I guess you boys are all right," he nodded.

They helped him load the prisoner over the horse's back, after which, giving each of the party a cordial shake of the hand, Lieutenant Withem rode away. They observed that his rifle was resting across the body of the prisoner, as if the lieutenant were looking for trouble. The trouble came sooner than they expected. The Ranger had been gone less than twenty minutes when a volley of rifle shots crashed out.

"He's attacked!" cried Tad.

"Quick! Put out the fire!" shouted the professor.

"Don't wait for the fire. We must go to his assistance!" answered Tad, snatching up his rifle and making a bolt for his pony. "Come on, boys, we've got something to do this time."

"Stop!" commanded the professor.

"What, sit here while a band of bandits are perhaps murdering Lieutenant Withem? I can't do that. You stay here, Professor. We will take care of ourselves. Don't worry about us. Chunky, you'd better stay here with the professor. You haven't got sand enough to—-"

"What, me stay here?" shouted the fat boy, starting for his own mount. "I guess you don't know what kind of a man I am. Come on, fellows. Whoop!"

Stacy leaped into his saddle. Ned Rector and Walter Perkins already had taken to their saddles. The professor saw that it was useless to try to stop the boys. He groaned aloud. But Professor Zepplin was very active for his years. Ere the enthusiastic Pony Riders had started to gallop away the professor had made a flying leap into his saddle and a few seconds later was pounding down the canyon, along the West Fork, in the wake of the racing Pony Rider Boys.

"There they are!" cried Tad, as bursting out on the plain they saw vicious flashes of light, accompanied by the crashing of guns.



CHAPTER IX

SHOWING GOOD GENERALSHIP

Rifles had been jerked from saddle boots as the boys swung to the left, sweeping down over the plain. Tad assumed the leadership of the party, as he usually did in emergencies.

"All hold your fire until I give the word. Keep your heads. Don't get excited!" wanted the lad.

"That is good judgment. But try to keep out of the fire," shouted the professor.

Ned Rector laughed.

"We might better have stayed at the camp if that is all we are going to do," he answered.

Tad saw that several men were riding around in a circle shooting at a fleeing horseman whose rifle spoke often and spitefully. The lad knew that the solitary horseman was the Ranger lieutenant.

"The cowards—-to attack one man that way!" gritted the boy. "Now, fellows," he called, slacking up slightly, "I want you, when I say go, to yell like mad. Whoop it up for all you're worth. Then when I say fire, every man shake out his rifle, but shoot high. We don't want to hit anybody unless we have to. We'll make those fellows think the whole troop of Rangers is turned loose on them. Understand?"

"Good! Excellent head work, Tad. I'm proud of you. But I do hope none of you gets hit."

"If you are afraid, drop back to the rear, Professor," suggested Stacy, whereat chuckles were heard from the others.

The bandits had not discovered the advancing horsemen in the darkness, though had they been less interested in seeking to kill Lieutenant Withem they might have observed the little band that was now sweeping down on them.

"Now! Whoop it up, fellows!" Tad raised his voice to an exultant shout.

Chunky's piercing voice punctured the atmosphere in a blood-curdling shout, a wild warwhoop.

"Yip! Yip! Hiyi! Hiyi! Kyaw! Kyeeaw! Yip! Yip!"

Despite the seriousness of the situation and the real desperateness of their position the Pony Rider Boys laughed so that they were unable to yell for a full minute. Then they let go their voices, to which the professor added his own. But his voice was almost wholly lost in the blood-curdling shouts of his young charges.

"Ready—-Chunky, aim at the moon or you'll be puncturing some of us. Now fire!"

A volley of shots followed Tad's command. Five rifles crashed out, but their leaden missiles went high, followed by another series of wild yells, whoops and scattering shots.

About this time the Border Bandits discovered the oncoming party of horsemen. All at once they turned their rifles on the Pony Rider Boys. At the first shot in the direction of the boys Tad turned in his saddle.

"Lie low!" he yelled. "Keep whooping and keep shooting. Look out that you don't hit any one. Ride straight at them. They'll give ground."

"I hope to goodness they do," shouted Ned Rector.

"If they don't it's me for the tall timber," cried Stacy, who had overheard Rector's remark.

The bullets sang so close to the boys that the lads could hear them plainly. Had the light been more certain some of them must have been hit, for those men out there knew how to handle rifles much better than did any of the Pony Rider Boys.

With wild whoops and yells, keeping up a continuous fusillade, the plucky band kept straight on.

"It's the Rangers!" They heard the words plainly, uttered by one of the bandits.

"Yip! Yip! Kyeeaw!" screamed the fat boy.

"Yip! Yip! Hiyi!" chorused the others.

"We've got 'em on the run!" yelled Tad, as the circling horsemen swung out into a straight line and began racing across the plains, turning in their saddles to shoot at their assailants.

"Can you see to let them have a few shots into the ground to hurry them along?" called Butler.

"Yes, yes," yelled the boys.

"Be careful," warned the professor. Bang, bang, bang, bang! answered the rifles of the Pony Rider Boys. The horses of the bandits fairly leaped into the air. Soon after that they faded into dark, uncertain streaks on the white of the plain. Now the rifle of the solitary horseman began to speak again. Joe Withem was not afflicted with any scruples against shooting to hit. He tumbled one man out of his saddle, but the fellow's companions scooped up the wounded bandit, carrying him away with them. Withem thought he saw a man go down, but he could not be sure.

The boys swept past him some distance to the left of the Ranger, still shooting, their purpose being to keep the bandits going until the latter should have been driven so far away that they would not be back that night.

"Swing back!" commanded Tad. The boys pulled their horses down, and wheeling began trotting back. A little beyond they saw Withem galloping toward them.

"You were just in time, fellows. They had me on the hip for sure."

"I'm glad of it," called Tad, "for—-"

"What's that? Who are you?" interrupted the lieutenant. Then he pulled his horse up sharply. "Well, I'll be jiggered, if it isn't you."

"That's who it is," laughed Tad. "Are you hit?"

"I stopped a couple, but it doesn't amount to anything. Just flesh wounds, that's all. And you boys put the bandits on the run, eh?" wondered the Ranger lieutenant. "That's another one I owe you. That's another one the Cap'n owes you too."

"Don't mention it."

"How did they happen to discover you?" asked the professor riding up beside the Ranger.

"That's what gets me. I don't understand it at all. They must have caught sight of me as I was riding out. They surely didn't know I had Dunk with me or they wouldn't have begun shooting at me. They'd have tried to pot the pony in the legs and get me afterwards, though I might have stood them off till daylight."

"Bad, very bad!" muttered the professor.

"I call it very good, sir. Those fellows have had a fright that will keep them going for some hours yet. They think it is the Rangers that's chasing them and they'll be hiking for cover at the rate of some miles an hour."

"You are sure you are not badly hurt?" asked the professor anxiously.

"If I never get any worse, I'll be satisfied. I'm a marked man, you know. Some day, when my gun sticks in the holster, I may get mine."

"Come back to camp with us. Surely you are not going on to-night?"

"Thank you, but I must be getting on. I've got to be at the camp by daylight."

"If you think there is danger of your being attacked, we will ride with you," said Tad.

"No, pard, I'm better off alone. I'll know enough to dodge them now."

"Speaking of danger, you don't suppose these men will come back and visit our camp, do you?" asked the professor.

"No, I don't think so. But were I in your place I think I'd put out my fire and set a guard for the rest of the night. It's always a safe thing to do. They won't touch you in the daytime; in fact, I think those fellows will be hiding. We'll set a couple of men on their trail just as soon as I get to camp; now that I know where the trail starts. They know I know, and that's what makes me think they won't let the grass grow under their feet."

"I am glad to hear you say so," answered Professor Zepplin. "I am afraid we should not have mixed up in this affair at all, though naturally I am pleased that we have been able to be of some service to you when you might have been killed."

"And some others with me," answered the Ranger grimly. "Well, so long. I'll talk with you to-morrow."

"Good night and good luck!" called the boys.

"Good night, pards," answered the Ranger heartily. Swinging his pony about he galloped away into the darkness, while the boys turned their own mounts toward their camp in the canyon. They had done a good night's work and Tad's generalship alone had won the battle for the Ranger lieutenant. But there were other equally exciting experiences ahead of them in the near future, in which the Border Bandits would play an active part.



CHAPTER X

THE PONY RIDER BOYS INITIATED

It was rather a solemn party that took its way slowly back to the Pony Rider Boys' Camp in the mountains. The boys realized that they had taken a rather active part in what might prove for them a serious affair. If, by any chance, the bandits learned who had interfered with them, it might be necessary for Professor Zepplin and his charges to make lively tracks for the border and seek other fields of adventure.

The same thought was in the minds of all except Chunky, who held his head erect, his chest swelled out. He was full of their great achievements and was telling what he would do if any of the bandits came to visit their camp.

"I think we will put you on guard to-night, seeing that you are such a brave young man," said the professor with a twinkle.

"On guard?"

"Yes."

"Yes, that's the idea. Let him take the watch," approved Rector.

"You forget that I'm a wounded man. You forget I've been shot twice to-day. Huh! Some of you children take the trick. I've got to take care of my health."

"I guess if we expect to get any sleep we had better let some one else do it," agreed Tad. "Chunky will have us out on false alarms all night long."

They were agreed upon this, and by common consent Butler was given the watch for the night. The boys slept with their rifles beside them that night.

The night passed without incident, Tad Butler keeping a vigilant watch all during the dark hours of the night. He had plenty of time to think matters over. He realized that Dunk Tucker, the prisoner, had overheard all that had been said during their talk with Withem out on the plain. Tad knew that if Dunk ever got into communication with his fellows it would go hard with the Pony Rider Boys.

Soon after daybreak, Tad awakened his fellows. He already had a brisk fire going, but before lighting it, the lad had walked down to the edge of the canyon for a survey of the plain. He saw a solitary horseman far out over the rolling plain. After some study he made up his mind that the man was going away instead of coming toward them.

Breakfast finished the party packed their belongings and started out for their long ride to join the Rangers sometime late in the day.

About noon they made camp for dinner and a rest, not taking up their journey until about four o'clock in the afternoon. Darkness overtook them, finding them still without sight or sound of the Spring where Withem said they would find the Rangers' camp. A consultation was held and it was decided to continue on until they picked up the party.

About half an hour after night had fallen, they were riding along when suddenly they were stopped by a stern command.

"Halt! Hands up! Every man of you is covered!"

"Oh, wow!" gasped Chunky. "They've got us again."

"Who are you?" demanded the voice.

"Who are you?" returned Tad boldly.

"I reckon my question gits the first answer, seeing as I've got the drop on you."

Tad all at once realized that the sound of falling water was in the air. With it came the thought that these must be the Rangers.

"We're the Pony Rider Boys," he said, speaking confidently.

"The which?"

He repeated his answer.

"Wait a minute. Send for Joe," said the man in a lower tone. "You fellows stay just as you are if you don't want some daylight let through you."

"I—-I wish we did have a little daylight," stammered Chunky, which elicited a short laugh from his companions. "Yeow!" bowled the fat boy as a figure appeared beside him and a pair of iron arms grasped his hands pulling him down, nearly unseating him. "Yeow! Let go!"

"It's all right, boys," spoke up the familiar voice of Lieutenant Withem. "I'd know this fellow in the dark as well as in the light. I'm Withem."

At the lieutenant's reassuring words the Rangers—-for the boys had stumbled upon the camp of the men of Captain McKay's command—-crowded forward, talking and laughing, three of them taking the horses as the party dismounted, then leading the way into the bushes and in among the rocks where the lads came upon a campfire, around which were seated five or six other Rangers.

Withem introduced the professor and his charges. There were, besides the Lieutenant, Pete Quash, "Dippy" Orell, Cad Morgan, Bucky Moore, "Polly" Perkins and several others, all of whom were introduced in turn, the Rangers solemn as owls, making low bows, sweeping the ground with their sombreros, causing Stacy to open his eyes in wonderment. Lieutenant Withem made the party feel at home at once.

"Just in time to have chuck with us. You see we have our chuck wagon here. Of course we don't carry it wherever we go. We usually have some central point where we make headquarters. But we have to keep changing these headquarters for reasons you understand."

All hands sat down to the evening meal after the men had washed up, in most instances without removing their hats. This attracted the attention of the fat boy.

"Say, do you fellows sleep in your hats as well as wash and eat in them?" he demanded.

"Do you sleep in your skin?" retorted Dippy.

"Yes, unless it has been all skinned off from me. When I was fighting Indians up in the Grand Canyon—-"

"Chop it!" commanded a Ranger. "Men have been known to meet their death for less in this country."

"Can't I say what I've got to say?" demanded the fat boy indignantly.

"Are you going to brag about yourself?" demanded Polly.

"I'm telling you, and—-"

"Well, don't tell us. We don't want to have to take you out and tie you to a tree. Say, will you get wise to the dude with the red necktie?" scoffed the Ranger, pointing to Ned, who, in the place of the bandanna handkerchief, had put on a flowing tie of brilliant red, tying it about his neck, with the ends carelessly thrown over the left shoulder.

"Don't you like it?" asked Ned, flushing.

"Like it? Why, it's the hottest thing that ever crossed the Staked Plains since the Apaches came down in—-"

"Why don't you look the other way then?" interjected Stacy.

"Oho! Listen to the human monstrosity—-the monstrosity as wide as he is long and as fresh as he is stale. What you got to say about it, young man?" demanded Dippy, glancing at Tad Butler, who was smiling.

"I haven't said anything yet."

"But you're going to?"

"I may."

"Can we stand for any more remarks, boys?" asked Dippy.

"No, we can't stand for any more," chorused the men, the professor and the lieutenant being too busy with a discussion to pay any heed to what was going on about them.

"Then he shall be washed clean so that he may take a fresh start?"

"That's the idea!"

"Will you go peaceably or must we drag you?"

"I reckon you'd better drag me. If you're going to have fun with me you'll have to earn it. I don't propose to help you out."

"Do you hear?" demanded Dippy in a deep, hoarse voice.

"We hear."

"Then do your duty!"

Two men grabbed the Pony Rider boy up, Tad making no resistance whatever, a little to the surprise of the men who had taken hold of him. They expected the boy to resist, which would have given them still further excuse to handle him roughly. But Tad was used to dealing with the rough and ready characters of plain and mountain. He didn't care particularly what they did. The other boys were delighted that Tad was to be made the mark this time. They followed along laughing and jeering at their companion.

The Rangers fell in behind the two who were carrying Butler, in solemn procession. To look at their faces one would have thought they were performing a solemn duty. The boys wondered where it was going to end. They discovered a few minutes later. Tad was taken out where the gentle murmur of the Spring falling over the rocks could be heard when the Pony Rider Boys were not making too much noise.

"Do you withdraw the flippant words you used to a member of this august body?" demanded a deep voice.

"No!" cried Tad Butler. "Never! I'll die first!"

"Then take your punishment!"

With that they gave the boy a swing, one holding to the feet the other the shoulders of the lad. When they let go, Tad sailed several feet through the air. Quick as a cat in his movements Tad turned over before he landed, going down on all fours. He thought he was going to strike on the hard ground. Instead he landed at the bottom of a deep pool of water cold as ice it seemed to him. He went in all over. Not expecting anything of this sort the boy was not holding his breath. The result was that he got a mouthful of water. He came up choking, then pretended to go down again. Instead he crawled up to the bank, under which he hid.

A moment passed and the Rangers began to be alarmed. Dippy stepped to the edge of the pool and leaning over peered down somewhat anxiously.

Quick as a flash a pair of arms encircled his neck. Dippy plunged in head first. He did not even have time to cry out. The others, discovering that Dippy had fallen in, rushed to the edge shouting and laughing. Two of them went the way of their companion, Tad having jerked their feet from under them. Within sixty seconds from that time half of the crowd were threshing about in the cold waters of the pool, while Tad, who had crawled out, sat on the bank dripping, watching their struggles.

Stacy Brown was rolling on the ground, howling with delight. All at once he was picked up in a pair of strong arms and tossed in bodily. Stacy howled lustily. Clambering out he squared off for fight, but the only fight he got was another ducking in the pool.

"You—-you——you fellows ought to be ashamed to pick on a wounded man that way. Don't you know I've been shot?"

"Shot?"

"Yes, shot."

"He's been shot," chorused the boys and the Rangers together.

"Any of the rest of you kiddies been wounded in the fracas?" demanded Folly.

"No, but you've overlooked two of us," announced Ned stepping out. "We haven't had our baths yet and I reckon we need them."

Without a word, two of the Rangers got up and threw the two remaining boys into the pool. Ned went in with a mighty splash, Walter Perkins landing on top of him, nearly taking away the breath of Rector. They had a rough and tumble scrimmage in the cold water, coming out choking, dripping and laughing.

All this made a favorable impression on the Rangers. Boys who could take rough handling such as this, without losing their tempers or even offering any objection, surely must be worth while. Then, too, there was the story about Tad and Ned having captured the desperado, Dunk Tucker, who was now well on his way to the calaboose in El Paso.

"I reckon you kin go back and dry off now," drawled Dippy. "Anything else you cayuses reckon you want?"

"Yes, you might fetch me a piece of soap," answered Butler laughingly.

"I reckon you'll use sand, young man," answered Orell witheringly.

The Pony Rider Boys made their way back to the camp, wet but happy, the only dissatisfied one in the crowd being Stacy Brown. But their troubles for the night were not wholly over yet. Their initiation was not yet complete. The Rangers had still other plans for their visitors.



CHAPTER XI

BAG-BAITING THE 'POSSUMS

"Guess you fellows are forgetting about that 'possum hunt?" drawled Cad Morgan as the boys came noisily into camp.

"'Possum hunt?" cried Stacy, brightening at once.

"I wasn't talking to you," answered Morgan witheringly. "Don't break in when men are talking."

"Men? Where are your men? I want to go 'possum hunting, too."

"So do I," chorused Ned and Walter. Tad did not speak. He was watching the Rangers to see if they meant it. Evidently they did.

"That's so," answered Dippy. "We had plumb forgotten all about it. We better get a move on or we won't have that 'possum for breakfast. Ever go bag-baiting for 'possum?" he demanded wheeling on Tad.

"I never did."

"Neither did I," interjected Stacy crowding in between Tad and the Ranger. "I want to bag a 'possum."

"Better look sharp or the 'possum will bag you," warned Pete Quash.

"I guess I'm not afraid of any 'possum that ever climbed a tree. Haven't I killed lions and bob cats and fought Indians, and—-"

"Stop it!" roared Dippy. "I'll be worse'n my name if you keep filling me up with that line of talk."

"What's bag-baiting 'possum?" asked Walter.

"What! You never heard of bag-baiting?" demanded Cad.

"I never did."

"Well, you fellows are tenderfeet!"

"May we go along and help?" asked Chunky.

"What do you say, fellows?"

"We might let them on a pinch. I suppose they've got to learn some time."

"All right, you fellows may go out and help us, but it's a job, mind you! You'll get sick of it before you've finished."

"No we won't," cried the boys.

"Well, I reckon we'd better be getting the stuff together," said Cad getting up wearily. "Though I'm afraid the roly-poly will plumb scare every 'possum out of the community."

"If they don't run at sight of you, they'll stand for anything short of a ghost," retorted Stacy sarcastically.

Cad did not reply to this fling. He merely grinned. Tad saw more in that grin than did his companions, but he held his peace. He wanted to see the fun, even if it were still further at his own expense.

Preparations for the 'possum hunt were at once begun. Two burlap sacks were procured from somewhere in the camp. These, with several candles and some stout sticks, made up the outfit for the 'possum hunt.

"Where are you fellows going?" called Withem as he saw the outfit starting away.

"Hunting 'possums," answered Dippy.

Lieutenant Withem smiled.

"I hope you bring back some for breakfast," called the professor. "I am fond of 'possum."

"You won't be of the 'possum they catch," warned the lieutenant, in a low tone.

With pistol holsters slapping against their thighs, Rangers and Pony Rider Boys strode from the camp, circling to the left after leaving the rocky pass where they had their resting place. They followed around the base of the mountains for a half mile. The ground was thickly wooded with second growth and mesquite bush.

Cad finally called a halt.

"I reckon we'll go in here," he said.

"Going to leave a bag here?" asked Polly.

"Sure. Here you, Perkins, catch bold of the bag."

"What do I do?" asked Walter.

"Wait; I'll show you."

Morgan very carefully lighted a candle and stuck it into the ground, packing the dirt about it with his knife.

"Now you hold the bag open. Don't move. Don't jump if you see a 'possum light into the bag. You see the light draws them. It hypnotizes them and they jump right into the light. That means they jump into the bag. The minute one hops in all you have to do is to close the bag, sling it over your shoulder and hike back to camp with it."

"That's easy. I could catch 'possums myself if that's all a fellow has to do," declared Stacy.

"It'll be your turn next, Fatty."

It was. After floundering through the bushes for some distance the Rangers stopped.

"Now, Fatty, it's your turn," announced Cad. "You may have to wait around here for an hour or two while we beat up the bushes and drive the 'possum in, but you won't care. You'll be glad you stayed when you get a nice fat 'possum for your breakfast."

"I'll catch him if he comes this way," replied the fat boy.

"You bet you'll catch it," chuckled Dippy.

"How long do I stay here?"

"Till you git a 'possum," answered Polly. "Mebby that'll be in two minutes and mebby not in two hours, but you've got to stand very still. If you move you'll scare the whole pack of them back into their holes."

Stacy squared himself, holding the opening of the bag close up to the burning candle.

"That's right. A little more to the left with the opening," directed Cad, who had constituted himself the master of the hunt. "Now hold it. You other two lads work around the outside. One of you go to the north, the other to the south about a quarter of a mile, then work gradually in, beating the bushes, slamming these clubs against every tree you come to big enough to hold a 'possum. In that way you'll drive them in."

"Yes, sir," answered Tad and Ned very solemnly.

"And go slow. Just take a step at a time, or some of the birds may get by you."

"A 'possum isn't a bird," corrected Stacy.

"You'll think it is after you've hunted one for an hour or two. Now git going, you beaters. Imagine you're beating the bush for lions. That will keep you from going to sleep on the job."

Chunky's eyes grew large.

"See here, you don't want to stand up straight," rebuked Morgan. "You must lean over just like this," bending himself almost double with his nose close to the ground.

For a half hour Stacy Brown maintained his position. By this time his back was aching, perspiration was running down his face and neck in rivulets. Insects of many shapes and forms, attracted by the light, were hopping about, some getting into the fat boy's eyes, nose and ears, others getting under his clothing. But still he held the bag open. No 'possums came his way. Some few thousands of insects did. A large part of these hopped into the bag. Others crawled in.

In the meantime Tad, his face wearing a grin, had walked away, but instead of beating the bush for 'possum, he headed straight for the camp. He heard the Rangers off to the left, as he emerged from the bush. The men were laughing and talking. Butler reached the camp ahead of them. When they came in they were amazed to see him stretched out comfortably in front of the campfire, taking his ease.

"I thought you were hunting 'possum," cried Polly.

"I thought you were hunting 'possum," laughed the others.

The men looked into each others' faces, then burst out laughing.

"Where's the other one?" meaning Rector, who like Tad was to drive the 'possums in.

"He's hunting 'possum," answered Tad. An hour later Ned Rector came sauntering in.

"Hullo, did you drive out any 'possum?" called Cad.

"Narry a 'poss," answered Ned carelessly. "I thought I'd leave them for you fellows. I didn't want to hog the whole game, you know."

"Are the other two holding the bags open?"

"I don't know. I suppose they are. They'll be even with you for that," answered Ned.

"By the way, Mr. Withem," said Tad strolling towards him, "I thought we were going to meet Captain McKay here."

"The captain is not here," replied the lieutenant with some reservation in his tone.

"Will he be here before we leave?"

"I can't say. Captain Billy may be here in the morning, then again he may not. If you miss him here, he will see you some other time. He wants to know you, pardner," smiled the lieutenant. "Where is the fat boy?"

"Holding the 'possum bag down in the bush," answered Tad with a grim smile.

The Rangers were pulling off their boots and one by one crawling into the single tent that did duty as a bedroom for all except the officers, who had a small tent to themselves. The boys were chuckling to themselves. They thought they had a good joke on at least one of the Pony Rider Boys, and perhaps they had.

About two hours after the men had returned to camp, Walter Perkins, with an exclamation of disgust, threw down his bag.

"Let them catch their own 'possums," he said. "I don't believe there are any 'possums in this country to catch. Even if there were we never could get them in a bag this way. I'll bet they have been playing a joke on me. I'm going back to camp."

Half an hour later, Chunky, his back aching like a sore tooth, straightened up with evident effort. The fat boy began to see a light, other than that furnished by the candle.

"I guess I'm the goat," he said regarding the bag reflectively. "Yes, I am the goat all right."

Picking up the candle, Stacy peered into the bag, then he thought some more. The inside of the bag was literally alive with insects. The fat boy quickly closed the bag, twisting the mouth tight and tying it fast with a string. Then blowing out the candle, he shouldered the bag, setting off for camp as Walter had done some thirty minutes before. But Stacy failed to observe the figure of a man near by as the boy stepped out on the plain. This figure followed along behind him at a safe distance, the man chuckling to himself as he watched the boy and the bag. The mysterious stranger was the Ranger lieutenant.

Reaching the silent camp, Stacy slunk in, apparently seeking to avoid being seen. The grinning lieutenant saw the boy slip cautiously to the tent occupied by the sleeping Rangers. There the fat boy very carefully deposited his 'possum bag, first having opened the mouth of it, after which he slipped away to his own tent and crawled into bed. But Stacy did not go to sleep at once. He lay there listening, gazing up at the roof of the tent through which he could make out the faint light of the sky.

Some twenty minutes elapsed when the boy sat up, thinking he had heard a sound from the other tent. This became a certainty just a few minutes later when a great uproar arose in the tent of the Rangers. Loud voices were heard, threats and shouts. The hundred and fifty-eight varieties of bugs that the fat boy had brought in in his 'possum bag, were getting in their deadly work on the persons of the Rangers. Chunky had turned the tables on his tormentors most beautifully.



CHAPTER XII

INSECTS WIN THE BATTLE

The Rangers, slapping, scratching and fighting against the armies of insects that were crawling over them, had finally got out of bed and gone out of doors to sleep. But there was no rest there either. Their bodies were covered with ants and fleas, all with well-developed biters—-and they bit!

At first the Rangers did not realize the trick that had been played upon them. One who went back to the tent for his hat discovered the burlap sack that had been used in the 'possum hunt. He brought it out, holding it up before his companions. The Rangers eyed the bag, then gazed at each other solemnly.

"Stung!" groaned Dippy.

"Bitten, you mean," answered Cad Morgan.

"Which one played that low-down trick on us?" demanded Pete Quash angrily.

"I reckon it was Fatty," said Polly. "He's the one that would have thought of a thing like that. I reckon there must have been a million of those bugs crawling over me."

"I'll tell you what, fellows. Let's get Fatty out and tie the sack over his head. We'll give him a dose of his own medicine," proposed Dippy. "We can't stand for anything of this sort."

"Look here, boys," spoke up Cad. "Are you welchers? Can't you take your medicine without squealing?"

"What do you meant" demanded Polly.

"I mean that we fellows put up a job on the kids. The fat baby turned the joke on us, and right smart at that. We're It. We're full of bugs—-the worst biters anywhere between the Rio Grande and the northern border. Are we going to squeal? I reckon we aren't. We're going to stand here and let the biters do their worst. I'm mighty near eaten alive, but I'm taking my medicine and I reckon I'll be taking a lot more of the same dose before morning."

"Wal," drawled Polly, "I reckon you're right at that, Cad. But I'd like to wring that little cayuse's neck just for luck."

The "little cayuse" referred to was sleeping sweetly in his tent, untroubled by the distress of the Rangers.

All that night the Rangers walked up and down, slapping their thighs, scratching their legs, for the older the night grew the harder did those fleas seem to take hold.

"I reckon their bills will be so dull by morning, after drilling our tough hides all night, that we won't feel them at all," observed Polly.

A low growl from Dippy Orell was the only reply to the remark. Now and then a man would throw himself down hoping to get a brief nap, but a few moments later he would be up stamping and scratching and growling deeply, threatening vengeance on the boy who had played the trick on them.

Next morning, Stacy Brown, for reasons best known to himself, got up ahead of the others of his party. Stacy took his time in dressing, then strolled out.

"Hullo, I guess the crowd is sleeping late this morning," he muttered. Then he halted. His eyes rested on the 'possum sack that he had left in the tent of the Rangers the night before. A broad grin spread over his face.

"I guess they won't be playing monkeyshines on Stacy Brown right away. I wonder if they got bitten much? I'm all swelled up where the insects made a meal on my skin. Hullo! Hi, fellows!"

Tad Butler and Ned Rector appeared at the door of their tent almost at once.

"Can't you let a fellow sleep?" demanded Ned. "What's the row about? Got a 'possum for breakfast?"

"No, but I've got something else for you."

"What's that?" questioned Butler.

"A surprise."

"What kind of a surprise?"

"Just a surprise surprise, that's all. What do you think?"

"Too early to think. I'm going back to bed," growled Rector. "And don't you dare wake me up again."

Tad stepped out.

"The crowd has given us the slip," announced Stacy.

"What—-why they've gone!" exclaimed Tad.

"Yes, they've gone. Gone where there aren't any Pony Rider Boys to make life miserable for them."

Tad was mystified. The Ranger company had disappeared utterly. They had slipped away silently and mysteriously. Even the chuck wagon had disappeared.

"Why, what can it mean?" marveled Tad Butter.

"You may search me. I don't know."

"Hey, Ned!"

"Well, what is it?" growled Rector appearing at the tent opening again.

"They've gone and left us and without even saying good-bye," called Tad. "Shake out the others."

The professor and Walter, having been awakened by the talking, now appeared. They were quickly informed that the Rangers had left, at which they wondered not a little.

"I guess they got tired of our company. I'm going to start breakfast," declared Butler.

"This is most remarkable," bristled the professor. "I should have thought they would have left some word."

"How about that 'possum, Chunky?" jeered Rector.

"You better ask the Rangers. They'll tell you about that," answered the fat boy with a grin. "There's the sack in which I fetched the animals back to camp."

"What, did you catch any?" demanded the professor.

"Oh, I got some game, all right. I'm the champion hunter, I am. Say, I wish I could cook like you," said Chunky gazing admiringly at Tad, who was confidently making some biscuit for breakfast. "I never could cook unless I had everything all down in writing before me. How do you do it?"

"Oh, he cooks by ear," scoffed Ned. "That's why there's so many discords in our digestive apparatus."

The Pony Rider Boys groaned dismally.



CHAPTER XIII

AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR

Breakfast the plans for the day were discussed. The professor was for remaining in camp, hoping that the Rangers might return later in the day. Tad did not believe this would be the case. He reasoned that the men had been summoned some time during the night to go on a hike, and that they might not return at all; therefore the Pony Rider Boys would be losing time, whereas they might be exploring the Guadalupe range, which stretched away for a hundred miles.

"Still, I can't understand this mysterious departure of our friends, the Rangers," persisted Professor Zepplin.

"Perhaps it was the bugs," suggested Stacy wisely.

"The bugs?" questioned the professor.

Chunky nodded. Tad eyed the fat boy suspiciously.

"Look here, what have you got up your sleeve, Stacy?" he demanded.

"Nothing, I hope. But some of the fellows did."

"Did what?" cut in Rector.

"Did have."

"Did have what?" urged Walter. "A fellow has to have a map to follow you."

"Did have something up their sleeves."

"What was it you think they had up their sleeves?" asked Tad, eyeing the fat boy with growing suspicion.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was insects."

"Stacy!" rebuked the professor sternly. Tad recalled that he had discovered thousands of insects crawling over the burlap sack when he came out in the morning. The lad's mind began to unravel the mystery. He thought he understood Chunky's references now, but Tad only smiled. He made no effort to explain, but instead, changed the subject.

"Do we start, or do we remain here, Professor?" he asked.

"It shall be as you boys wish. All in favor of going on will say 'aye.'"

"Aye!" howled the Pony Rider Boys, a shout that caused the browsing ponies to look up in mild surprise.

"Then we move. I will say, however, that I don't exactly approve of the situation."

"What situation, Professor?" questioned Butler.

"There are too many rough men in these parts. I had no idea we were going to meet with any such condition of affairs in this enlightened state."

"That's nothing. We have had some experience. Experience is what we are looking for."

"But the Rangers were not," asserted Stacy thickly, his mouth full of biscuit. "They got it, though."

"I feel sorry for you," said Tad leaning over to Stacy.

"Sorry for what?"

"For what you'll catch when they get hold of you again."

"They'd better not. I've got something up my sleeve, or I will have, I mean. They'd better keep away from me."

"Come, fellows, are you going to strike camp while I clear away the breakfast things?" called Tad.

"Let Chunky do it. He hasn't done a thing this morning," cried Ned.

"Yes, I have, too."

"What have you done?"

"I've done two things this morning."

"That's news," grinned Walter.

"Yes, name them. We don't want to do you an injustice, you know," urged Rector sarcastically.

"I made a discovery—-I discovered that we had been basely deserted."

"Well, that's only one thing. You said you had done two things," persisted Ned.

"Then I ate my breakfast. That's two things."

The boys groaned.

"He ate his breakfast. Most remarkable," scoffed Rector, imitating the professor's voice and manner, whereat the professor himself grinned broadly.

Tad, giving up expecting the others to do anything, was rapidly gathering their equipment together. The tent came down. He divided it into sections, placing the sections in piles preparatory to forming them into bundles to be packed on the ponies.

"Have you the map, Professor?" he called.

"In my saddle bag."

"I want to study it a minute before we start. We don't know anything about the trails here and we have no guide to direct us. We've got to make our way the best we can."

"We can't get lost," chimed in Chunky.

"Why can't we get lost?" snapped Ned turning on the fat boy.

"Because we don't know where we are anyway."

"Horse sense," laughed Tad.

"Fat-boy drivel," jeered Ned.

"Come, come, young men. You are not making much headway."

Stacy dragged his pack by the rope, over to his pony, instead of carrying the bundle as he should have done, Professor Zepplin observing the boy with disapproving gaze.

"Is that the way you have been taught to pack your pony, sir?"

"No. I've never been taught. What I know I've had to pick up. Nobody ever tries to teach me anything."

Scolding, joking, having all manner of sport with one another, the Pony Rider Boys finally completed their tasks. The ponies were loaded, the pack pony was piled high so that its head and legs were about the only parts of its anatomy visible, and the boys climbed into their saddles, Tad first having given the trail map a brief scrutiny.

They started off up the canyon. For a little way the trail appeared to be no trail at all. The ponies threshed through the bushes, the sharp limbs smiting the riders in the faces, making disagreeable traveling. But the young men were used to this sort of thing. They did not appear to mind it at all.

Reaching a higher altitude they found the trail to be fairly good. From there they got a good view of the yellow plains below, that stretch away many miles to the northward. To the southwest, peaks that they judged must be all of four or five thousand feet high, towered blue and hazy in the yellow light. Birds were singing, the air was soft and balmy and a gentle breeze stirred the foliage about them lazily.

"This is what I call fine," cried Tad.

"Good place for a nap," agreed Chunky.

"Are you in need of sleep?" asked the professor.

"I'm in a trance, sir."

"You always are," laughed Tad Butler. "I think we had better take a rest here. The animals are tired after the climb. Suppose we lie off for an hour?"

The boys were all agreed on this, so the pack pony was unloaded. It now being near midday it was decided to wait for dinner before pressing on. A meal was a "dab" down there and the boys had fallen naturally into the vernacular of the men of the plains.

It was Ned's turn to cook the "dab," a task that never appealed to him. Chunky at such times was always on hand while Ned was getting the meal, that he might offer suggestions and make uncomplimentary observations. Rector's method of making coffee came in for considerable criticism. He never could be induced to make coffee after the more approved methods. Ned's way was to put a pint of coffee beans in a two-quart coffee pot and boil for half an hour. He made it the same way on this occasion.

"That stuff would eat a hole through a piece of sheet iron if given half a chance," declared Stacy.

"Don't worry. It won't hurt you," retorted Ned. "Your stomach is tough enough to withstand anything."

"I guess it is or I'd have been dead long ago eating your dab," flung back Stacy.

They had to wait quite a time for the coffee, but at last the call to dinner was sounded in the usual way, the long-drawn cry of, "Come and get it!"

They had just sat down when they were startled by a voice calling from somewhere off in the bushes to the northward of them.

"Hoo-ee!"

The boys started up, thinking that perhaps some of the Rangers had returned. Instead of the Rangers a stranger rode in on a wiry little pony. He doffed his sombrero gracefully and sat regarding them smilingly.

"Howdy, pardners," greeted the newcomer. "Got a smack for a hungry man?"

"Certainly, certainly. Come right over, my friend," answered the professor cordially.

Ned stepped forward politely to take the stranger's horse.

"Never mind, lad. I'll look after the cayuse. He isn't over-fond of strangers. You're all strangers down here, eh?"

"Yes, yes. We are," admitted the professor. "You are just in time. We are ready for dinner and there's plenty to go round."

"I'll promise not to eat you out of house and home," laughed the stranger. Without taking off his broad-brimmed Mexican sombrero he threw himself down by the piece of canvas on which the dinner had been laid, helping himself to a slice of bacon which he ate from his fingers in a most democratic fashion. "My name's Conway. Bill Conway. What's yours?"

Professor Zepplin introduced himself and the boys, which Conway acknowledged by polite bows. The man was easy in manner, and his smiling face led the boys to warm to him at once—-all save Tad Butler, who, without appearing to do so, was observing the visitor keenly.

The man was slight, almost boyish in figure. His hair was dark, as were his eyes, the latter having a trick of growing suddenly darker than their natural color, seeming to sink further back in his head under some sudden stress of emotion. The brown fingers were slender and nervous in their movements.

"I'll bet he would be quick on the trigger," was Tad's mental conclusion.

"Are you from these parts?" asked the professor by way of starting the conversation.

"El Paso, when I'm at home. And you?"

"From the north."

"Down here for your health?"

"Partly. Mostly for an outing."

"Just so. I reckon I've heard something about you."

"Maybe it was I whom you heard about," suggested Chunky.

"Can't say as I have," answered Conway, directing a quick glance at the fat boy.

"You don't know what you've missed," answered Stacy solemnly, helping himself to five slices of bacon.

"You didn't happen to meet with any of the Rangers this morning, did you?" questioned Professor Zepplin.

It was the professor's turn to get a sharp look now.

"Rangers? No. Why do you ask?"

"Because we were looking for some of them."

"What for?"

"We wanted to see them about a little matter," hastily interposed Tad Butler.

"What matter?"

There was no stopping the professor.

"Why, we camped with a body of them last night. With Lieutenant Withem, a most affable gentleman. They ran away and left us early this morning. However, I suppose they had good reasons."

"Joe Withem, eh?"

"Yes, that was the man."

"How many Rangers did behave with him?"

"Twelve, wasn't it, boys?"

"Something like that," replied Tad, observing their visitor narrowly. "However, Professor, I hardly think we should speak of them. You see they were on some secret mission and—-"

"It's all right, young man. You are safe in confiding in me. In fact, I am going to confide a little secret to you to show you that you have made no mistake."

"We shall preserve your secret, sir," answered the professor with great dignity.

"I thought you would. Lean closer and I'll tell you," almost whispered the visitor.



CHAPTER XIV

WHEN THE AIR GREW CHILL

"I'm a Ranger, too," confided the visitor.

"What, you a Ranger?" exclaimed the professor.

"Of Captain McKay's band?"

"You've hit it, pard."

"Well, well, this is indeed a pleasure. We have not had the honor of meeting Captain McKay as yet, but we hope to do so, ere long. He had promised to meet us last night, but I understand was called away on some business pertaining to his calling."

"You would like to meet Captain McKay?"

"Indeed I should. I understand he is a most remarkable man, that he has performed many deeds of valor."

"Pray stop!" laughed Conway. "You actually make me blush."

The outfit gazed at the visitor inquiringly.

"Now that you have said so much I am going to confide another little secret to you. I'm McKay."

"What? Not Captain McKay, the leader of the Rangers?"

"The same."

Professor Zepplin thrust a brown hand across the table, grasping the hand of their visitor.

"Well, this is indeed a surprise. I can't begin to tell you how glad we are to see you," answered the professor with enthusiasm.

"Same to you, pardner," grinned the captain. "You see I didn't want to open up too freely until I was sure to whom I was talking. Of course if you and Withem are cahoots, it's all right."

"It certainly is all right. We had the pleasure of being of some service to Lieutenant——-"

"Ouch!" howled Stacy. Tad had tipped the pot of hot coffee into the fat boy's lap, and for a few moments confusion reigned.

"Don't talk too much," whispered Butler leaning over to brush away some drops that had fallen on the professor's shirt.

"Eh? Eh? What's that?"

Tad was embarrassed. He began speaking of something else. Professor Zepplin did not repeat his question.

"I understand my men picked up a fellow named Dunk Tucker a night ago?" asked the captain.

"Yes, yes, indeed. Mr. Butler there is the one who is really responsible for the capture of Tucker, however."

"You don't say!" wondered the visitor.

"Exactly. Tad, will you tell the captain how you came to capture the man Tucker?"

"If you will pardon me, I would rather not."

"He's too modest. I'll tell you about it," chimed in Stacy Brown. Stacy, once wound up, would continue to operate until he had run down. He told the whole story from beginning to end, including the fact that he himself had been wounded twice, ere he stopped.

"Fine, fine!" The captain leaned back and laughed uproariously. "You are a funny boy. I wish I had you with me. I could teach you a lot about dodging bullets."

"I'm a pretty good dodger already or I shouldn't be here at this minute," answered the fat boy pompously.

"Where did they take the prisoner? Are you informed as to that?" asked the captain.

"They took him to El Paso, I believe," replied Professor Zepplin. "I thought you were aware of what had been done."

"I got wind of something of the sort. You see I have been away in another part of the state on a secret mission for the Governor."

"Exactly."

"Did my men say where they were going before they left you this morning?"

"No. As I have said, they left most mysteriously."

"Which direction did they take?"

"We do not know that either. They disappeared utterly."

"Just like Withem," nodded the guest, smiling. "But I'll pick him up some time to-night. I suppose they are on the track of some of the fellows who have been raising trouble around these parts of late."

"Yes, that's what the lieutenant said. They are after what they call the Border Gang. But I have no need to tell you about it. You surely are familiar with the subject."

"I reckon I know all about it, Professor. Was it some of my men who shot up the bandits the other night and—-"

"No, that was us fellows," interjected Stacy suddenly. "We did give them the run. And they thought it was the Rangers too. Oh, that was a good joke. I nearly laugh myself sick every time I think about that funny scrape. We bluffed them and they ran away."

For the briefest part of a second the eyes of the visitor darkened. They grew almost filmy, then the old sparkle came into them and a grim smile appeared on the face of their owner.

"You sure are a fine crop of youngsters. You probably will be claiming the reward for the capture of Tucker, eh?"

"Not at all, not at all," protested Professor Zepplin. "My young men are not looking for rewards. It is reward enough that they were able to serve the authorities in the capture of a very bad man. We shall do whatever we can in our small way to help the Rangers round up the rest of this disreputable gang."

"Of course, of course," answered the captain reflectively.

Tad had taken no part in the conversation. He did not like this freedom of speech on the part of the professor. What they had learned were better kept to themselves according to Tad Butler's reasoning. Then again there was a faint suspicion in the mind of the Pony Rider Boy, that he could not clearly explain to himself. What did strike him as peculiar was that so much of the Rangers' movements should be unknown to their commanding officer. McKay had ever since coming into their camp been seeking information. Still, as he had said, he had been away. Tad knew that the Rangers took long rides, sometimes hundreds of miles, using relays of horses and making almost as good time as they could have done going by trains.

The lad decided that he was unduly suspicious. Suddenly, as McKay was talking, a shot sounded somewhere off on the plains. The Ranger sprang to his feet, his eyes darkened.

"Is—-is something wrong?" stammered the professor.

"There may be. I must investigate. You will say nothing about having met me," commanded the stranger sternly.

"Certainly not, certainly not."

"I will bid you good day. I'll see you again when I may have something more to say."

With that McKay ran to his pony, and leaping into the saddle tore through the brush at a perilous pace. Tad observed what the others failed to see. He noted that the Ranger had returned in the direction from which he had come, rather than riding off toward the direction from which the shot had sounded. This struck Tad as a peculiar thing for a Texas Ranger to do.

"That's queer," muttered Butler.

"What is queer, Tad?" questioned the professor.

"The way he went."

"His leave taking was rather abrupt. But we know that is a way these Rangers have. Besides he thought there was trouble in the air," guessed the professor.

"Yes, but then why did he run away from it?" urged Butler.

"That's so, he did go the wrong way," wondered Ned.

"Maybe he's going to take a roundabout course," suggested Stacy.

"Exactly. You do think now and then, don't you?" smiled the professor. "However, it is not for us to criticize. Captain McKay knows his business perhaps much better than do we. And now, if you are ready we had better be on our way. We have lost no little time here."

The packing up was not a long job for not much of their equipment had been unloaded. The rest of the day passed uneventfully, the Pony Rider Boys continuing along the range of mountains.

About five o'clock they decided to make camp in a valley, beside a stream of clear, cold water. The place was thickly covered with brush and small trees, excepting for a small open space on which the grass grew high and green.

They pitched their tent near the stream. This done the boys began gathering dry wood for the campfire which would need a lot of it before the evening came to an end. Wood was scarce and darkness had overtaken them ere they succeeded in getting enough for their needs. In the meantime the professor had been laboring with the tent. He had finished his job quickly, rather to the surprise of the boys, who were chuckling over the mess Professor Zepplin would make of it. The professor, however, was far from helpless. He might not be suspicious of every one he met, but he was a man of brains. He knew how to get along with his young charges, as perhaps few men would have done. And he did get along, without friction, retaining the love of every one of the Pony Rider Boys. They were always ready to play pranks on the professor, yet there was not a lad of them but would have laid down his life, if necessary, for him.

He insisted on getting the supper, "just to keep my hand in," as he expressed it. No one offered strenuous objection to this, though no cook ever had a more appreciative audience. The professor's biscuits were beautiful to behold, but when the boys came to sample them they shouted.

"Too much soda, Professor," cried Tad.

"No, baking powder," corrected Ned.

"Wow! I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to blow us up!" howled Stacy. "Why don't you use dynamite in the biscuit while you are about it? I think I'll go out and browse with the ponies. It's much safer and I'll bet will taste better."

"Young man, if you don't like the cooking, you don't have to eat, you know," rebuked Professor Zepplin.

"Yes, I do, too. What, not eat, and with an appetite like mine? Why, I'd eat my pistol holster if I couldn't get anything else. Speaking of eating that reminds me of a story—-"

"Will some one please muzzle the fat boy?" begged Ned.

"You can go out and hide in the bushes while I'm telling the story," returned Chunky. "This is a nice ladylike story. It's about a fellow—-a clerk who was out with a party of surveyors, running a line across the desert. The water holes had gone dry and they were choking for water when the clerk saved them and—-"

"Ring the bell! Ring the bell!" shouted Ned Rector.

"Yes, you have told us that story twice to my positive knowledge," spoke up the professor.

"Of course he has," agreed Walter. "The clerk found water for them and they were saved," added Tad, laughing immoderately.

"Did he?" demanded Chunky eyeing them soulfully.

"Yes, of course he did. You ought to remember the story. You have told it often enough."

"How did he save them?"

"He had a fountain pen, of course, silly! Have you forgotten your own story?" scoffed Tad.

"He didn't have anything of the sort. This was another clerk. This one had a watch."

Stacy glanced around expectantly. Not a face was smiling. All were as solemn as owls.

"He had a watch," nodded Rector.

"He had a watch," added Tad.

"I wonder if the watch was running?" piped Walter.

"No, it was stagnant," retorted Stacy.

"Young gentlemen, for the sake of bringing a long-winded discussion to a close, I will offer myself as—-as what you call a 'mark.' What had the watch to do with their thirst?" asked the professor gazing sternly at Stacy.

The boys shouted.

"Come down with the answer, Chunky."

"The watch had a spring in it," answered the fat boy solemnly.

"I think it's going to snow," observed Tad consulting the skies reflectively.

"Yes, the air is very chill," returned Ned Rector solemnly. "Shouldn't be surprised if some one perished in this outfit."



CHAPTER XV

MAKING A STARTLING DISCOVERY

Stacy Brown looked from one to the other of his companions in disgust.

"Ho, ho! ho, ho!" he exploded. "Hard luck when a fellow's company is so thick that he has to laugh at his own jokes. Ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha! It is to smile, but nobody smiles. You make me tired."

"As I have already observed, I think it is going to rain," said Tad.

"Must be getting warmer, then. A minute ago you said it was going to snow. It's my private opinion that you don't know what you think. Ned doesn't know any more. The professor is the only one in the outfit who has a sense of humor. He knows when it's time to laugh. Ha, ha!"

Professor Zepplin was smiling broadly. Stacy's joke was just dawning upon the professor. But Tad's mind at that juncture was in another direction. The lad had raised his head in a listening attitude, his glance fixed keenly on the other side of the camp ground.

"Did you see something?" whispered Walter.

Tad shook his head.

"You heard something?"

"Never mind. Go on with the fun. Get Chunky to tell you when it is time to laugh."

About this time Stacy got up, still chuckling to himself, and started for a cup of water.

"Time to laugh. Ha, ha! What! Ha, ha; ho, h—-"

The fat boy paused abruptly. He was down on his knees about to dip up a cupful of water when chancing to raise his eyes he saw something that caused the word to die on his lips.

A man stood just on the other side of the stream, lounging against a tree, observing the fat boy with an amused smile.

"Oh, wow!" howled the fat boy, in such a tone of alarm that the rest of the outfit sprang up and ran toward him. "Wow! Look!"

At this juncture the stranger leaped the narrow stream and was standing beside Stacy facing toward the camp when the others came up.

"I suppose I should introduce myself before matters go any further," smiled the newcomer. "I know you, but you do not know me. You are the Pony Rider Boys. I am Captain Billy McKay of the Rangers."

Stacy uttered a shrill laugh, whereat the captain shot an inquiring glance at him.

"You—-you are—-are Captain McKay?" stammered Professor Zepplin.

"Yes. I had hoped to see you when you camped with Lieutenant Withem—-"

"Yes, we were with 'em," muttered Stacy. "And I guess we've got 'em now."

"Unfortunately I was called away on that occasion. I promised myself that I should look you up at the first opportunity. I got on your trail this afternoon and as you were going in my direction I considered this an excellent opportunity to make your acquaintance. So here I am."

"But—-but—-" stammered the professor.

Tad was smiling, the others gazing at the newcomer blankly.

"Well, sir, what is it? One would think you had seen a ghost," laughed the captain.

"But, sir, you are the second man who has introduced himself to us as Captain McKay of the Ranger troop, to-day."

The captain's blue eyes twinkled.

"Indeed! Then I must have a double. I should like to meet him."

"You look like the real thing," observed Stacy.

"Thank you. Then the other man did not?"

"He did not—-to me," answered Tad Butler.

"How are we to know that you are the captain in person?" asked the professor suspiciously.

"I wear the badge and then here's my open countenance," answered the Ranger with another hearty laugh.

"Professor, there can be no doubt that this is Captain McKay. I should know him now from the description given to me by Lieutenant Withem. Won't you join us? We have just about finished the grub, but there is more. I'll cook something for you," proposed Tad.

"I'll join you in a cup of coffee, thank you," replied Captain McKay.

"Lucky for him that Ned didn't make the coffee for supper," muttered Stacy, but so low that the captain did not hear the remark.

Captain McKay, the real Captain McKay this time, was almost boyish in appearance. He was of about the same build as the other man who had declared himself to be the captain, but the real captain had light hair and laughing blue eyes, as opposed to the dark hair and eyes of the other man. The captain's skin was fair. It seemed not to have suffered from exposure to the sun and storm of the plains.

Tad led the way to the camp, followed by the visitor and the rest of the Pony Rider outfit.

"Most remarkable, most remarkable," muttered the professor, taking keen sidelong glances at Captain McKay.

"You are Butler, aren't you?" called the captain.

"Yes, sir," answered Tad, glancing back.

"I knew you the instant I set eyes on you. You're a sharp young man. You discovered me before I got into your camp."

"Discovered you?" exclaimed the professor.

"Yes. He heard me. I stepped on a stick that bent down under my foot. The stick didn't snap and how that young scout ever caught the faint sound is more than I can explain."

"So, that was what you were looking at?" laughed Ned.

"Tad's got ears in the back of his head," added Stacy.

"I observe that all of you have pretty keen senses," smiled the Ranger captain. "Something smells good."

"It's the coffee that Tad's making for you," answered the fat boy solemnly. "How's the going?"

"Pretty fair. How is it with you?" returned the captain.

"So, so," answered Stacy carelessly. "You heard about my getting shot, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, I heard all about it."

"I got wounded in the fracas, I did. I'm going to France one of these days to fight the Huns. Then I suppose I shall get shotted up some more. You take it from me, though, I'll put some of those savages on the run before they get me," declared Chunky belligerently.

"Perhaps you will explain why your men ran away from us the other night, sir?" spoke up Walter.

"They were called away. I guess the 'possum hunt was too much for them," answered the Ranger with twinkling eyes. "You rather put it over my boys, young man," he said nodding at Stacy, whose face flushed a rosy red.

"What's that?" demanded the professor.

"Drove them out of their tent by unloading a bag of fleas on them. Ha, ha, ha! I guess you got revenge on them, young man. By the way, you're Brown, aren't you?"

"I was done brown down there in the bush that night. Mosquitoes were worse than a volley of rifle bullets."

"But—-I don't understand," protested the professor.

Captain McKay laughingly explained. He told them how the Rangers had been so pestered by the fleas and other insects that Stacy had captured in the 'possum bag that the men were forced to get up and walk all the rest of the night, until a messenger had come from their commander, ordering them to go on a hurry scout some forty miles from where they were camped.

The Pony Rider Boys laughed uproariously at this. Once more they sat down with a captain, but the same thought was in the mind of each—-who was the first man who had passed as Captain McKay? McKay himself did not appear to be over curious as to this. However, after the meal was finished he turned to the professor.

"Now tell me about my double," he said.

"I don't know what to tell you except that he was about your age and build, dark hair and dark eyes, a very pleasant gentleman, I should say."

"Did behave a scar on his left ear lobe?"

"I must say that I did not notice."

"Yes, he had," spoke up Tad. "It looked as if he had been shot there."

"Exactly, young man. You are very keen. I put a bullet through that ear myself, more than a year ago. I suppose you do not know who the gentleman is whom you entertained?"

"No, sir," chorused the boys.

"That, my friends, was the infamous Willie Jones, one of the most desperate characters on the Texas border."



CHAPTER XVI

JOINING OUT WITH THE RANGERS

Exclamations of amazement greeted the announcement of the Ranger captain.

"Willie Jones!" gasped the professor.

"That is the man. You see what a sharp fellow he is. I suppose he pumped you gentlemen pretty thoroughly?"

"I guess he learned all he wanted to know," replied Tad, flushing. "I don't recall much of anything that he missed."

Professor Zepplin wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

"This is most disturbing, sir. I see now that Tad was right. He counseled caution. I gave no heed to his words of warning."

"Master Tad is a very shrewd young man, Professor. I guess I shall have to take him in with us."

"Impossible! Impossible!"

"Why impossible?"

"I could not permit it."

"Let me tell you something. Willie Jones now knows all about the part you and your young men have played in capturing Dunk Tucker. He knows that it was your party that drove off his men when they were trying to get Lieutenant Withem. Do you think Willie will overlook that? Not Willie! Willie will be on your trail from now on. He will watch his opportunity and when he thinks he is safe from the Rangers he will strike—-he or his men. Then you young men will need to be resourceful, indeed, if you get off with whole skins."

"Oh, wow!" groaned Stacy. "I'll get it! I'll stop some more bullets. I'm the mark for all the lead that's flying around in these parts, I am!"

"I am of the opinion that we had better leave the border then," declared the professor.

"Oh, don't do that, don't do that," begged the boys. "We never ran away yet. Let's not do it now. We have taken care of ourselves before this and we can do so again."

"Of course I do not wish to influence you. It is for you, Professor, to do what seems best to you. If you decide to remain I think I shall be able to protect you."

"What would you suggest, sir?"

"I was about to ask if you look to spend most of your time in the mountains here?"

"That was our intention, later journeying down to the Rio Grande."

Captain McKay nodded reflectively.

"That will suit my plans very well. I have come to the conclusion, from certain things that have come under my notice, that the headquarters of this band of Border Bandits is here in the Guadalupes. Search as we might we have been unable to locate their cache."

"You mean where they hide?"

"Yes, that and something else. You see their plan of operation is this. These men indulge in various forms of rascality. In the first place they steal stock when possible. This they drive over the border and exchange for Mexican goods, which they smuggle across the river and store away until such time as they are able to dispose of it. Of course there are some people higher up who are receiving and disposing of these goods. We are on their track, but we haven't sufficient evidence to convict any of them. The first thing to be done is to capture Jones and his band. When they are safely behind the bars the traffic will stop short. Perhaps when we get them all in limbo one or another of the newer ones will confess. That will make our work easier. In fact it is what we are depending upon at the present time."

"I understand. But will there not be danger in our remaining here?"

"Perhaps. There's always more or less danger, and Jones will never let up on you until either he gets you or we get him."

"I think I understand," nodded Tad. "You think we shall be able to assist you?"

"Exactly."

"Will you please explain?" begged Professor Zepplin.

"You can help us a great deal, by remaining here. It is safe to suppose that the band will devote no little effort toward getting even with you. That means that they are quite likely to hover about in your vicinity. That will narrow down our field of operations considerably. We shan't be faraway from you at any stage of the game; in fact, I think it might be well to have two or three of our men in your party all the time. Do you understand?"

"I begin to," nodded the professor.

"That will be fine," answered Tad with glowing face.

"Then we will be Rangers, too," exclaimed Walter.

"Yes, you will be Rangers, too," laughed the captain. "You are pretty good rangers already. By assisting in rounding up these men you will be serving your country, for, if we can put these Border Bandits out of business, we shall be destroying some of the Kaiser's worst trouble makers on the border."

"And get shot full of holes," added the fat boy.

"That will do you good. It will give you an appetite," jeered Rector.

"He doesn't need a tonic," spoke up Tad. "His appetite is quite enough for this outfit now. It's all we can do to keep enough supplies to keep him going. My, it's an awful thing to have such an appetite."

"Well, Professor, what do you say?"

"I am agreeable, if the boys are."

"Hurrah!" shouted the Pony Rider Boys.

"Of course, with the understanding, Captain, that you will see that we are properly protected?"

"You shall be. Of course there may be occasions when you will be going on alone. You will expect that. Generally we shall be somewhere in the vicinity. When we are all away it will mean that your enemies are also away."

"The man Tucker is safe behind the bars, is he not?"

"He was at last accounts," smiled the captain. "I am sorry Jones knows what happened to Dunk. I had hoped to keep him in ignorance of that until we had rounded up the rest of the gang. However, what's done cannot be undone."

"Where is your horse?" asked Tad.

"A little way down the creek. He's all right. Don't worry about him."

"By the way, when shall we see your men?" asked the professor.

"You should see some of them soon now. They know where I am, and a half dozen or so will be riding this way before morning, I think."

"You will remain with us to-night, of course?" urged Tad.

"If you insist," smiled the Ranger captain.

"Certainly we insist," emphasized the professor.

"Of course we do," added Chunky. "Maybe if there are any bullets flying about you will stop them instead of my doing it. I'm tired of stopping bullets. It hurts."

"Having stopped a few in my time I think I know all about it, young man."

They could not believe that this sunny-tempered, soft-spoken young fellow was the most dreaded of all the officers of the law who hunted down the desperadoes of the border. It was also difficult to believe that Captain McKay was a marked man who had been condemned to death by these same desperate characters. Something of the resourcefulness of the man was shown to the boys in a most marked manner later in the evening.

All hands had been sitting about the fire, the boys trying to draw out Captain McKay to tell of his experiences, which the Ranger was loth to do. What experiences he did tell them were such as chiefly concerned others than himself. According to his version Captain McKay had played a most inconspicuous part in the splendid work of the Texas Rangers. Not once did he refer to the fact that he was the terror of every evil-doer in the State of Texas.

Finally it came time to turn in for the night. The captain lazily rose and stretched himself. The others were still seated, but were preparing to rise and prepare for bed when the interruption came.

A flash and a report from the bushes toward which the Ranger's back was turned caused every one of the boys to jump. Tad had his wits about him.

"Down!" he commanded.

"Oh, wow! There it goes again," moaned Stacy. "They're shooting at me again!"

Professor Zepplin had rolled into a depression in the ground, thus concealing his body from the unseen shooter. But in the meantime Captain. McKay had not been inactive. It seemed as if the bullet that had been fired at him from the bushes had barely shrieked past his ear, when the captain wheeled. His revolver—-two of them—-had appeared in his hands as if by magic.

Bang, bang! crashed the captain's weapons as he whirled. A yell sounded off there. Captain McKay dashed toward the spot, followed by Tad on the jump.

"Stay back!" shouted the Ranger, but Tad did not obey. He proposed to have a share in whatever trouble was before the brave Ranger captain. Chunky had taken to the bush. The others were lying flat on the ground.

As the captain ran he let go two more shots. This time there was no answering yell from the bushes. But he distinctly heard a crashing in there and drove in two more shots. He charged the bushes utterly regardless of the peril to himself, with Tad Butler close behind him. Tad had his revolver in hand, but he was cool headed enough not to indulge in any indiscriminate firing.

It was evident that either more than one man had been in the attacking party or else one who had been wounded had not been badly enough hurt to prevent his getting away. Not a sign of a human being was the Ranger able to find, though his keen eyes soon picked up the trail. He followed it a short distance, finally having reached soft ground, getting down on his knees and examining it critically.

When he looked up he found Tad standing over him.

"I thought I told you to stay back, young man?" he said sharply.

"I don't like to stay back when there's anything going on. What do you find?"

"There were two of them. Here's where they mounted their ponies. I wish I knew who they are. You see those fellows are watching."