"Watching you?"

"No. They came here to clean out the Pony Rider Boys, I reckon," laughed the Ranger. "They didn't expect to find me here. But when they saw me they couldn't let the opportunity go without taking a pot shot at me. I moved—-I stretched—-just at the right second, or I'd have been a dead man before now."

"The cowards!" breathed Tad, his eyes glowing angrily.

"Oh, yes, they're all of that. They shoot when the other fellow isn't looking, and they shoot to kill. But we might as well go back. I could follow them, but it hardly is worth while. They will be hidden long before we can run them down. They'll leave a blind trail pretty soon after they get far enough away to make it safe for them to stop and cover their tracks."

"But, will they not come back again?" urged Butler.

"Not to-night. They know I am on my guard now. They will put off their attack on you until some other time. Lucky I chanced to be here when they first came. I hope they don't take the alarm and keep away from you now."

Butler grinned. He hoped so too, though the others of his party might not share this hope with him, especially Professor Zepplin who was getting rather more excitement out of this journey than he had looked for.

By the time the two had returned to the campfire the others had mustered courage enough to stand up. The professor, his whiskers bristling, had crawled from the depression into which he had rolled at the first sign of trouble, and Chunky was making his way cautiously from the bushes.

"Captain McKay, how much of this sort of thing shall we have to face?" demanded the professor.

"You might have had to face a good deal more of it, had I not been here," answered the Ranger shortly.

"What do you mean?"

"That had I not been here you would have got the bullets fired at me. As I have already said to Butler, those men were after your party. When they saw me they knew they would not dare to waste a shot on any one else."

"While they were shooting you up, they knew my arsenal would get into action. They figured on killing me the first shot. But they didn't," added the captain with a mirthless grin.

"I don't like this at all," declared Professor Zepplin with a slow shake of the head.

"Neither do I," agreed Chunky. "I'd as soon be shot to death as scared to death. I'll bet my hair is turning gray already. Oh, wow!"

"All hands, turn in," commanded the Ranger briskly. "I will stand watch over the camp for the rest of the night, though you will not be disturbed."



CHAPTER XVII

FUN ON THE MOUNTAIN TRAILS

Confident in the watchfulness of Captain McKay the Pony Rider Boys slept soundly all through that night. Even Chunky forgot to talk in his sleep, thus saving himself from sundry digs in the ribs from his companions.

But when the morning came again the lads were treated to still another surprise. Captain McKay was sleeping in front of their tent door, rolled in his blanket, using one arm for a pillow. Still further out lay three other men, with one sitting up. The latter was none other than Dippy Orell, one of the Rangers. A second glance showed the boys that the other three men were also of the Ranger band.

"Hullo, Bugs," greeted Dippy upon catching sight of the fat boy.

"Hullo. You here?" demanded Stacy.

"I'm here, what's left of me."

"Bring any 'possum for breakfast?" grinned Chunky.

"No, but I've a rod in pickle for you."

"All right. Keep it in pickle for yourself. I don't like sour stuff."

"Hey, there, Bugs!" greeted another Ranger sitting up.

"My name's Brown," Stacy informed him with dignity. "When did you come in?"

"We blew in with the dawn," answered Dippy.

"And we're going to blow out with the sun," added Polly Perkins.

"Say, Kid," growled Cad Morgan, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he sat up blinking.

"His name is Bugs," interrupted Dippy.

"All right. Say, Bugs, I've got some news for you."

"I don't care about any news you've got to give out It's probably got a bullet in it somewhere. I'm sick of bullets. What I need is a little rest from chunks of lead. I'm coming down with nervous prostration as it is. Everything seems to happen around me. No matter what I do, I always get the worst of it. Why, that reminds me—-"

"Is Chunky going to tell a story?" cried Ned, stepping over the sleeping captain as he came out.

"It sounds that way," laughed Tad. "Go on the Rangers are here to protect us if you tell another watch story. I reckon they'll arrest you if you try anything like that on them."

"As I was saying that reminds me of a couple of years ago when my uncle bought a lawn mower because the grass was getting so long in our front yard that the cats couldn't chew it—-"

"Cats chew it?" jeered Dippy.

"Yes, before a rainstorm. They always do."

"Go on, go on. I'm pretty tough," urged Polly. "But don't drive me too far or I'll buck."

"As I was about to say—-"

"You said that once before."

"I offered to run the lawn mower. Uncle thought that was fine. You see work and I never had hitched very well together. But I thought that would be some fun. So I started in mowing the yard the next morning," finished Chunky thoughtfully.

"Well, what happened?"

"Would you believe it, be—-before I'd been at work half an hour, the town constable came up and arrested me for exceeding the speed limit. Now—-now wasn't that hard luck?"

The Rangers gazed at each other hopelessly. No one laughed, though Walter Perkins was heard to chuckle under his breath.

"If it might be proper, I reckon I'd like to ask what being arrested for exceeding the speed limit has got to do with catching bugs in a 'possum bag?" demanded Dippy Orell.

"Why—-why—-the—-the constable came up in a buggy, don't you see? Ha, ha. Don't laugh. It might hurt your countenance. I'm used to laughing at my own jokes and—-"

"Hee—-haw, hee—-haw!" wheezed Polly in imitation of a donkey. "What'd we better do with him, fellows?"

"I reckon I'd better tell him the news I was going to," answered Morgan.

"I reckon that'll take the starch out of him right smart," nodded Polly.

"Dunk Tucker has got away, Bugs."

"Em" Chunky was interested at once.

"Don't make me say it so many times. It hurts me. I said that Dunk Tucker has got away. He 'busted' out of the calaboose over at El Paso some time yesterday morning and he's on the warpath."

"G—-g—-g—-got away?" gasped Chunky.

"Yep, and he's heading in this direction to get even with you fellows for taking him up. What d'ye think of that, Bugs?"

"Oh, help!" groaned the fat boy.

"Is this right?" questioned Tad. "Has Tucker really escaped?"

The Rangers nodded.

"That's what we're here for, to catch him up when he makes connections with his crowd again. I reckon he'll be on the trail of this outfit, first of all, before he joins out with his own outfit. He'll never rest till he puts a bunk of cold lead under the skins of the fellows who got him."

"This is where I—-I get shot again," wailed Stacy. "I knew it. I knew something else would come along to spoil all my fun!"

"No use trying to sleep in this bedlam," cried Captain McKay springing to his feet. "Saddle up. I want to make the Ten-Mile cross-trail before noon. We'll find two men waiting there for orders. Professor, can you get under way at once?"

"Of course we can," answered Tad for the professor.

"Don't we get any breakfast?" cried Chunky.

"Yes, but you'll eat it cold this morning."

"Oh, pooh!"

"If you are going to be a Ranger you must be willing to take a Ranger's fare," smiled the captain.

"I haven't said I wanted to be a Ranger. I don't. I want to be a peaceful citizen."

"With four square meals a day and a whole pie thrown in," suggested Tad.

"Something like that," smiled Stacy.

The tent was already coming down. The Pony Rider Boys showed the Rangers that they were used to quick work. Twenty minutes later the boys were ready. The Rangers had watched their preparations with interest.

"Good work," said Captain McKay approvingly.

"Anybody'd think you had traveled with a one-hoss circus," grinned Dippy.

"We've got some of the animals left yet," laughed Tad.

"The Fattest Boy on Earth and—-" began Polly when Chunky shied a tent stake at the head of the Ranger, thus sharply ending the discussion. A few moments later they were on their way. The boys had to ride rather fast to keep up with their escort, for the Rangers were rapid riders under all circumstances. A great deal of their success was due to their ability to cover long distances between daylight and dawn or sunrise and sunset, appearing in localities where they were not in the least expected. In this way they had been enabled to make many important captures. But the riders did not move so rapidly in this instance that they were not able to poke fun at the fat boy. Stacy was the butt of almost every joke.

To all of this Stacy Brown did not give very much heed. He was planning how he could turn the tables on the Rangers again, amusing himself with whistling, making queer noises in his throat, trying to imitate birds that he passed.

But all at once there came a sudden end to his practice. Stacy's pony suddenly leaped to one side, planting its front feet firmly on the ground and arching its back like an angry cat at bay. Stacy did a beautiful curve in the air, landing on his shoulders on the hard ground. He had a narrow escape from breaking his neck.

The Rangers howled. They were still bowling when Stacy, getting his breath back, sat up, bunching his shoulders to get the kink out of them, and rubbing himself gingerly. The pony stood looking at its young master sheepishly.

"What's the trouble, Stacy?" cried Tad riding back.

"I—-I fell off."

"I know you did. There couldn't be any mistake about that, but what caused him to throw you?"

"I—-I don't know."

"That pony was frightened at something. What was it?" demanded the captain of Cad Morgan.

"I'm blest if I know, Captain. There wasn't anything that I saw."

"Take a scout around through the brush, you and Polly. There may be some one taking a parallel trail."

"Yes, there may be some German raiders hiding out there in the bush, laying for us. We ought to have some bombs. They would clean those fellows out in short order," declared Stacy.

The two men trotted from the line and disappeared among the trees, while the fat boy got back in his saddle, somewhat more sad, but no wiser than before. But he was thinking a great deal.

"He must have got scared at some of my imitations," decided the lad. "I don't blame him."

"But which one was it? I'll see if I can do them again."

Letting his horse drop back a few rods behind the others, Chunky went over his list of accomplishments in the imitation line, trying each one cautiously, keeping a watchful eye on the ears of the pony.

All at once the eyes of the fat boy lighted up. Something struck him as funny. He laughed aloud.

"Chunky's got them again," chuckled Ned Rector.

Stacy waited until all hands were looking ahead when he tried the imitation that he believed had caused his mount to halt. His success was instantaneous. The pony leaped clear of the ground, coming down with a jolt that made the boy's head ache.

"What's the matter with that horse?" called Captain McKay.

"Guess he's feeling his oats," flung back Chunky. The boy hugged himself delightedly. What he had done was to give a trilling tongue movement accompanied by a hiss. It was a perfect imitation of the trilling hiss of the rattlesnake. When Stacy had first given the imitation he did not realize what he was doing. He had fooled his pony. The Pony Rider Boy was delighted. He tried it again with equal success, though this time he was thrown forward on the neck of his mount. This jolt nearly broke Stacy Brown in two.

"That was the blow that near killed papa," grinned the lad. "I never knew I could do that. I reckon. I'll be having some fun with this outfit. Yes, I'll try it on right now."

Stacy spurred his pony close up to the leaders. The lad's face was solemn, but it shone like an Eskimo's after a full meal of blubber. Ned Rector was next ahead of the fat boy. Chunky pretended not to see Rector. Riding close up to him, the fat boy softly gave his rattlesnake imitation.

Ned Rector made a high dive, landing head first in a thicket of mesquite brush, while his pony was left kicking and bucking on the trail. Stacy was having more trouble with his own pony.

"Whoa, there, you fool! Whoa! What's got into this beastly pinto?" howled the fat boy.

"That's what I'd like to know too," snapped the captain, wheeling his horse, giving the fat boy a quick, sharp glance.

Ned, having picked himself out of the mesquite bush, was limping back.

"You hit him, Stacy Brown!" shouted Rector.

"I never touched him. What's the matter with you?" protested Chunky indignantly.

"No quarreling, boys," warned the professor.

"Well, he doesn't want to be poking my pony!"

"Well, he doesn't want to be accusing me of poking his old bundle of bones."

"Pretty lively critter for a bundle of bones, I should say," answered the captain grimly.

"Nobody trailing," announced the scouts returning a few minutes later. The captain may have had a suspicion, but if so he kept it to himself, making no reply to the report of his two scouts.

For reasons best known to himself Stacy did not give his rattlesnake imitation again. But every little while a broad grin would grow on his countenance, which the fat boy would suppress as quickly as possible.

"This is too good a thing to be nipped in the bud," he muttered. "No, sir, I don't give my secrets away yet awhile. Mebby I never shall."

Stacy well knew that swift punishment would be meted out to him if the others caught him at his new trick, so the fat boy kept silent, looking the picture of innocence.



CHAPTER XVIII

ONE HISS TOO MANY

The Ten-Mile cross trail was made about half past one o'clock in the afternoon. Walter Perkins entered the camp on his head, Tad Butler hanging to the mane of his bucking pony, both feet out of the stirrups, Stacy Brown making desperate efforts to quiet his own mount.

The ponies had heard the soft hiss of a rattlesnake, but the ears of Rangers and Pony Riders had failed to catch the sound. Perhaps it was the yell that the fat boy had uttered instantly after giving the imitation that had too suddenly attracted the attention of the party.

"What's the matter with those fool cayuses?" shouted Dippy Orell. "What—-"

Dippy did not finish his remark. He landed on his back thoroughly shaken down. He was up with a roar, starting for the pony with blood in his eye.

"That'll do, Dippy!" commanded the leader sternly. "If you'd been riding as you should have, you never would have fallen off. Now you're off, stay off." The captain uttered a bird-call which was answered in kind. The boys understood at once that the Rangers were exchanging signals. A few moments later, a bronzed, weather-beaten Ranger rode into camp. He held a few moments' conversation with the captain, after which he rode away.

"Anything doing, Cap?" asked Morgan.

The leader shook his head.

"Something may turn our way to-night. Joe has been detained. I don't know what is keeping him. But we'll wait here till he comes in. Professor, it is possible that we may have to make a hard night ride to-night. Do you wish to go along?"

"Of course we do!" shouted the boys. "We don't want to miss a single thing."

"No, we don't want to miss a thing," agreed Chunky solemnly. "I see I've been missing a great deal lately. I don't propose to miss another thing as long as I'm out on this cruise."

"He thinks he's on a canal boat," jeered Dippy.

"Maybe if I do it's because we've got some mules to pull it," retorted Stacy.

"Ouch! But that one landed below the belt!" exclaimed Dippy.

"Our fat friend has a sharp tongue," observed Polly.

"I guess we'll have to file it. Might hurt himself on it if he happened to stumble over a root and fall," added Cad Morgan.

"Chunky, are you going to get busy and help settle this camp?" demanded Tad.

"I don't have to work. I'm a guest of the management," answered Stacy.

"The management disowns you. You're out in the cold world," laughed Butler.

"All right. That's good. Then I don't have to work."

"No, he doesn't have to work," agreed the professor. "Nor does he have to eat. No work, no eat, is the motto of this outfit."

Chunky got busy at once. Captain McKay had little to say. He was very thoughtful, evidently perplexed by some word that his scout had brought him. The other men made no further effort to learn what was disturbing their chief. They knew he would tell them if he wanted them to know. At McKay's suggestion, nothing was unpacked save the stuff necessary for their meal. Of course all the packs were removed from the ponies to give the little animals a rest. The ponies apparently had ceased from their tantrums and were as docile as if they had never known what it was to buck off a rider.

Polly was getting the dinner while Tad and Ned were starting and keeping up the fire. The others occupied themselves with various duties about the camp, all save the captain who sat on a rock some little distance from the scene of operations.

Suddenly Captain McKay leaped from the rock, taking a long spring away from it, at the same time drawing a revolver and whirling. Chunky, who was passing at the time, was bowled over by the captain's sudden spring.

"Look out for the rattler!" commanded the Ranger sharply.

"Oh, wow!" howled Chunky springing back apparently in great terror. "Snake, snake!" he cried waving his arms to the others near the campfire. "Look out for the snake!"

McKay saw no snake to shoot at. Deciding that the reptile must have squirmed away, the captain, his face wearing a sheepish smile, shoved his weapons back into their holsters and strode back to the camp, where Stacy had preceded him.

There were no further indications of the presence of rattlers, and in a few moments the adventure was wholly forgotten. Shortly after dinner the captain sent his men out on a long scouting expedition, himself riding from the camp, taking Tad Butler with him. Tad was proud to be thus singled out. While they were on their ride, some twelve miles to the southward, the Ranger captain taught the northern lad many things about trailing human beings. This was all new to Tad. He listened with rapt attention, though he hoped it never might fall to his lot to have to trail men for a livelihood. The captain also told him many things about the bad men of the Texas border in the old days. Captain McKay was a lad then, but he was out with his father much of the time, the father also having been a Ranger, having been killed in a battle with a desperado whom he had been sent to capture. Captain McKay's two brothers had shared a similar fate. Now there remained only Captain Billy.

"And I expect one of them will get me one of these days," he concluded steadily.

"Why not stop then before they do get you?" questioned Tad.

"A fellow's got to die some time, hasn't he?"

"I suppose so."

"And he won't die till his time comes, will he?"

"I couldn't say as to that, sir. I guess we are not supposed to know about those things here on earth."

"No, a fellow doesn't go till his time's come," answered the Ranger with emphasis. "So what's the use in dodging? Why, if my time had come and I had quit and gone to the city to live I'd most likely be run over by a trolley car or something of that nature. I'd a sight rather die in a gun fight with a real man than to get bucked over by a hunk of wood and iron and lightning, called a trolley car. No, I'll take my medicine, as I always have and—-But let's go back."

"Still it is no worse than fighting the Germans," observed Tad. "I have wondered why you have not enlisted and gone to France, you and your men? What splendid fighters you would make."

"Every man of them wants to go—-I want to go. I can hardly hold myself down, Kid. Every one of us has offered his services, but the government would not hear to it. Because of the activity of the Kaiser's agents in Mexico and on the border, Uncle Sam decided that we could best serve him right here on the border, and here we are," answered the Ranger thoughtfully.

"Have you found what you came out here for?" asked Butler.

"Surely I have," smiled the captain. "Haven't you?"

"I haven't found much of anything unless you mean that a couple of horsemen crossed back there some few hours ago."

"How'd you know that?" exploded the captain.

"I saw the trail they left."

"Shake!" cried the captain leaning from his saddle. "You're the alfiredest sharp youngster I've ever come up with. Oh, it's too bad that you have to waste your talents in a city! Too bad, too bad! You ought to be out here on the plains and in the mountains where one's manhood counts for something."

"Did you come out to pick up that trail, sir?"

"That's what I came for, my boy. I reckoned those two fellows who got after us in camp last night would take this trail and head for the lower end of the mountain range. That's what they've done. This trail proves that. Of course they may get sidetracked, but that's their idea up to this point. I think we are safe in following our original plans now."

Captain Billy did not say what those plans were, nor did Tad ask him. They now turned about and started toward home at a slow jog trot, riding side by side where the trail permitted and in single file where it did not.

On the way back the captain asked Tad many questions about himself, the members of his party and their experiences during their various journeyings into the wilder parts of their native land.

"Ever think of joining the army yourself, Tad?" questioned the Ranger.

"Have I? I am thinking of it most of the time. Oh how I wish I were old enough. I know I could give my country good services now."

"You bet you could, Kid. You would make a wonderful scout over there," declared the captain, nodding.

"Some day, if the war lasts, I shall go," asserted Tad in a low voice, tense with emotion.

Billy said he had been East to Chicago once, where he had been robbed of everything he had on except his clothes.

"Funny, isn't it? I'd like to see a fellow go through me out here in my native pastures. But back there in the city—-" Billy shook his head. The subject was too great for words.

They found the camp quiet and in order. The three boys and the professor had been sleeping a good part of the afternoon, and without having put out a guard, either. The captain shook his head, glancing significantly at Tad as he heard this. In fact the two had to shout to awaken the party. Then to learn that they had been sleeping all day—-well, there was nothing to be said.

"Do we move to-night, sir?" asked the professor.

"Can't tell you. Not until I hear the reports of my men, and the messenger or scout whom I looked for to meet us here at noon. Seen. anything of that rattler around these diggings, Professor?"

"No, we haven't seen any rattler."

"We don't want to see any rattler," piped Chunky. "I'd snip his head off with my pistol if I caught sight of him."

"Yes, you would!" grinned Tad.

"You'd have to learn to shoot first," scoffed Rector.

"Perhaps Captain McKay will give us some lessons in revolver shooting," suggested Tad.

"From what I hear I guess you boys are pretty handy with both rifle and pistol as it is. However, if there are any drawing or sighting tricks I can show you I'll be glad to do so."

"Thank you. If we are where it is safe we will ask you to make good that promise to-morrow," declared Tad Butler.

While they were preparing the supper that night the Rangers whom the captain had sent out on a scouting expedition rode into camp, tired and gloomy. It was a personal and keen disappointment to every man of them that some ruffian hadn't shot at him once during the ride. Not once had the Rangers' weapons been out of their holsters. Whatever their mission the men merely shook their heads in reply to a questioning glance from their commander. That was all. No words were wasted in explanations. The captain knew that his men had done their work thoroughly. No explanations were necessary. This perfect confidence and understanding between commander and men was not lost on Tad Butler. It was an object lesson that made a deep impression on him.

The men had returned with sharp edges on their appetites, but they ate in silence. Stacy had little to say at dinner. He was observing the Rangers with wide eyes, stuffing his cheeks with food and listening while the professor, Tad Butler and Captain McKay discussed a variety of subjects.

"I don't understand why Joe hasn't come in, boys," said the captain finally. "He had passed Tonka Gulch at four o'clock this afternoon. He should have arrived here a long time ago."

The men nodded.

"Perhaps he's come up with Withem," suggested Cad Morgan.

"I don't think so. The lieutenant isn't due there until some time to-morrow. He will have to finish investigating the El Paso end before he can come along and join up with us."

Tad wondered how the captain knew that his scout had reached a certain point in the mountains when none had seen him or heard from him. But there were many mysteries connected with the work of these brave men. They worked in mysterious ways that added to the awe in which they were held by those whose ways were dark.

The night was warm and soon after supper the Rangers threw themselves down on the ground wrapped in their blankets. In view of the fact that the whole party might be called out all turned in early. The men had barely closed their eyes when suddenly there sounded the menacing hiss of a rattler right among them.

"Look out!" yelled Polly, jumping up.

"What is it?" cried half a dozen voices, as their owners sprang up with drawn weapons.

"There's a rattler in camp. Get a torch, somebody!"

Tad, who had snatched an ember from the dying campfire, was poking about cautiously, the torch in one hand, a club in the other ready to dispatch the reptile on sight. The Ranger who had been on guard duty hurried in upon hearing the uproar. He said he had heard a snake just after leaving the camp. The men jeered when they saw Stacy half way up a small tree, peering down at them with scared eyes.

"Afraid of the snake, eh, Bugs?"

"No, I'm not afraid of any snake. I just thought I'd get out of your way so you could work better."

The men jeered again. Morgan stepped over and gave the tree a shake, whereat the fat boy came sliding down to the ground. The search for the reptile was a fruitless one. After a time the Rangers turned in again. They had not been rolled in their blankets more than five minutes when that same fearsome, trilling hiss smote their ears again. This time the men were mad. They declared they'd find the "pizen critter" before ever they turned in again.

"Pile on some wood. We've got to have light here," ordered the captain. "Where was he?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, Captain. It isn't any easy matter to locate a sound like that. The critter may be 'most anywhere."

"Have—-have you looked in your pockets?" stammered Stacy.

"Yes, maybe he's crawled in your clothes to get warm," grinned Tad.

"Oh, close up!" growled a tired Ranger.

"I was just trying to help you," answered Chunky indignantly. "You needn't get mad about it."

"No, don't grouch," laughed the captain. "We are losing too much time as it is. Better roll in your blankets and go to sleep. The fire will drive the fellow away."

Some of the men tried to sleep standing, leaning against trees. Others took the chance and rolled in their blankets. But there was little rest in the camp that night. About the time the men had settled down, they would be awakened to their surroundings by that same trilling hiss. It was beginning to get on the nerves of the Rangers. They were getting mad. The Pony Rider Boys felt a sense of discomfort too, though none showed any nervousness. It was not the first time the young explorers had passed through such an experience. Just the same they would have preferred to be in some other locality just then.

Finally Stacy went to sleep. When he woke up with a start, he tried to recall what had been going on when he dropped off. Then he remembered. He had been indulging in his famous imitation of an angry serpent. Had any of the men been awake at the moment he might have seen the fat boy's blanket shaking as if the boy were sobbing. But Stacy Brown was not sobbing.

It was some moments before he had subdued his merriment sufficiently to hiss again. The hiss was unheard. Stacy opened his eyes as he saw the captain striding into camp. He saw McKay awaken the Rangers, then start to arouse the Pony Rider Boys. In his wonderment at the proceeding Stacy forgot to hiss again for some time.

"Saddle up," commanded the captain sharply, but in a low tone.

The camp, so silent a few moments before, was now a scene of orderly activity. Every man in it was packing his pony and in less than ten minutes after the alarm had been given the men were in their saddles. The Pony Rider Boys were full of anticipation. It looked to them as if something were going to develop that was worth while.

Starting off in single file the men dozed in their saddles, but the Pony Rider Boys did not. The latter were too much excited for sleep. All at once that trilling hiss came again. Two dozing Rangers landed on their backs in the bush. The party was in an uproar, but as suddenly quieted by a stern word from the captain. The latter wondered at their being followed by a rattler. It was peculiar to say the least.

Stacy hissed again. Then the boy shivered, for a heavy hand was laid on his arm, closing over it until the fat boy yelled.

"Ouch! Let go of my arm!" he cried.

"Young man, I think I've got the rattler this time," said the stern voice of Captain Billy McKay, as the fat boy fairly shrank within himself.



CHAPTER XIX

SURROUNDING THE ENEMY

"What's that?" roared Dippy.

"Here's your rattler. I've been suspecting him ever since early in the evening. This young man has been imitating a rattler's hiss and I must say he did it mighty well."

"What's that? 'Bugs' been causing us all this trouble?" demanded Dippy. "Let me at him! Let me at him!"

"Here, take him, but don't make too much noise about it," grinned the Ranger captain. "And don't be too rough about it, either."

Dippy had Stacy by the collar. With a powerful hand he jerked the fat boy across his saddle and such a spanking as Stacy Brown got that night he had not had since he was considerably younger. The other Rangers clamored for a chance at him, but after Dippy had finished the captain decided that the fat boy had had enough. There was stern business on hand. Still McKay thought a lesson might not come amiss at that time, so he had permitted the little diversion.

Growling and threatening, Stacy was dropped back into his saddle.

"Remember, we haven't had our turn yet," warned Cad Morgan. "Remember, you've spoiled a few hours of sleep for us fellows."

"Yes and re—-re—-remember you made me stand in the mesquite bush for three hours waiting for the 'possum to jump into the bag," reminded Stacy. "I guess we are about even now. But, if you want some more trouble, I'll think some up for you. If I can't think it out alone Tad will help me."

"I don't believe you need any assistance," laughed the captain. "No more disturbance now. Gentlemen, I am going to divide up our party. The time has arrived for me to tell you my plans. I have received information from one of my scouts that some half dozen of the men we want are heading for a point yonder in the mountains. They are to rendezvous at a place about three miles from here where they are to meet others of their outfit. It is my intention to surround them. One of my men is now on their trail, following them as closely as possible. There may be some shooting. If any of you wish to stay back you may go into camp right here and we will pick you up later."

"No, no! Take us along," begged the boys. "We don't want to be left behind. How about you, Chunky?" called Tad.

"No, I don't want to be left. I—-I guess I'd be afraid to stay here all alone."

The captain quickly disposed of his forces, directing Tad Butler to come with him. Upon. second thought he decided to take Stacy along also, perhaps believing that it would be safer to have the fat boy under his own eyes, as there was no telling what Chunky might otherwise do.

The party broke up, leaving the spot in twos, after having received their orders, but in each case the Pony Rider Boys were accompanied by one or more of the regulars.

In a few minutes all had left the place, except McKay, Tad and Stacy. These waited for the better part of half an hour.

"Now forward and no loud talking, boys," the captain directed, touching his pony's sides with the spurs. "Be ready to obey orders quickly. And, Brown, no more imitations on your part. This is serious business. A slip and you're likely to stop a bullet 'most any time."

The three men started away, with the captain in the lead. They traveled all of two miles when McKay called a halt.

"Butler, you will go to the right, straight ahead. Stop after you have gone about a quarter of a mile as nearly as you can judge. When you hear an owl hoot, move slowly forward. Don't use your gun, no matter what happens, unless some one shoots at you. Even then don't shoot unless you have to. But let no one get past you. We hope to get those fellows in a pocket and hold them up without any shooting. But we may have to waste some powder. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are not afraid?"

"I am not."

"I thought you wouldn't be."

"Where do I go?" asked Stacy apprehensively.

"You will remain with me. I'll take care of you. All right, Butler."

Tad without another word rode away. Finally after having gone what he thought was the proper distance, he halted and sat his pony silently, head bent forward listening for the signal. It came at last, sounding faint and far away. The boy smiled, shook out his reins and the pony moved forward almost as silently as the boy could have done himself. The night was dark, but Tad was able to make out objects with more or less distinctness. He used his eyes and ears to good purpose. Once Tad thought he heard a twig snap a short distance ahead of him. He halted abruptly and sat steadily for fully ten minutes. There being no further sounds he moved forward again.

It was a trying situation for a boy. Tad Butler felt the thrill of the moment, but he was unafraid. It is doubtful if Tad ever had realized a sense of fear, though he was far from being foolhardy, nor was there the faintest trace of bravado about him. He was simply a steady nerved, brave lad who would do his duty as he saw it no matter how great the obstacles or how imminent the peril.

The boy had gone forward for some thirty minutes when all at once his quick ears caught a peculiar, low whistle some distance ahead. Tad with ready resourcefulness answered the whistle, imitating it as nearly as possible. But he made a mistake. That whistle was not the right whistle.

Bang!

A flash of flame leaped toward him and he heard the "wo-o-o-o" of a bullet over his head. The boy was off his pony. Then Tad tried the tactics of an Indian. Quickly and silently tethering his pony, he fired a shot high enough so that he did not think it likely to hit any one. Skulking a few paces farther on, he fired again. Several shots were in this manner fired, and in quick succession, giving the impression that there were several men shooting.

Half a dozen answering shots were fired at him, then the lad caught the sound of hoofbeats. He knew the other man was riding away. Tad gave the hoot of an owl as best he could. Rather to his surprise the signal was answered off to the left. Tad repeated it and received the same answer. He rode forward, on the trail of the fleeing man. In a few minutes he was joined by Captain McKay and Stacy, both riding hard.

"Did you draw them out?" demanded the captain sharply, but without a trace of excitement in his tone.

"Yes." Tad explained what had occurred.

"That was one of the outposts. The others will begin to stir soon. We are too early. All the ruffians are not in yet. Well, it's too late now. The alarm has been given. There they go!"

A succession of shots followed from distant points, widely separated. McKay listened.

"Our men are shooting. It's time to close in. Stick behind me. Don't try to ride off to one side. Keep your eyes and ears open."

The ponies leaped forward. The man and the two boys were riding a dangerous pace considering the roughness of the trail, but none gave a thought to the danger. The captain's voice was raised in a long-drawn hoot, which was answered by another from some distance away. Then the firing broke out afresh. It seemed as if no one could escape that fusillade of bullets. Tad could hear the bullets screaming overhead. He sat his pony, his eyes glowing, firing rapidly into the air. Stacy Brown also sat his own pony, but he couldn't have moved a muscle to save him. The fat boy was literally "scared stiff." Stacy really was suffering, but no one, unless he had observed his eyes, would have thought him afraid.

"Close in, boys. Ride and shout!" commanded the captain.

Butler exercised his lungs. Chunky's lips moved, but no sound came from them. His pony, however, followed the others, nearly causing its stiffened rider to fall off.

Every few moments the captain would utter his owl-call, which would be answered by other similar calls pretty much all around the compass. In this way the Rangers were able to locate each other's positions, thus avoiding shooting each other.

The shots of the enemy were now scattering.

It was only occasionally that McKay was able to determine that one of the bandits had fired a gun. How he could tell the difference between the rifles of friends and foe was a mystery to young Butler. Ere long the Rangers had narrowed down their circle until they were able to see each other. For the past twenty minutes, they had been stalking cautiously. Now they paused, after having exchanged signals. Deep growls were heard on all sides.

"What does it mean?" questioned Tad.

"It means those fellows have given us the slip again," grunted the captain. "They've managed to slip through our lines somehow. Well, never mind, we'll get them one of these times. I thought we had them pocketed this time so there would be no escape."

Tad had thought so, too. He was convinced that there was more to this escape than even the Ranger captain realized. The boy did not wish to make suggestions so he kept silent. Yet he determined to make an investigation on his own hook on the following morning, provided they were anywhere in that vicinity.

There was nothing more that the Rangers could do. Their prey had eluded them, disappearing as suddenly as if through a hole in the earth. It was the first time that such a thing had occurred to Captain McKay and his failure bothered him, but he presented a smiling face when, after having withdrawn a mile or so, the men went into camp for the rest of the night, building up a campfire and putting out a heavy guard to prevent a surprise during the night.

"Don't you think the rascals have a hiding place there where they evaded us so neatly?" asked Tad, upon getting the captain's ear.

"There is no hiding place there. I know the locality well," was the terse reply.

"But surely they could not have got through your lines," objected the boy.

"Yet they did. That's all there is to it."

Not a man of the Rangers had been hit, nor was it believed that any of the enemy had been wounded. Night shooting at skulking figures in a forest is uncertain work. Tad realized a sense of thankfulness for this. He was not anxious to see bloodshed, but now that the danger was over, Chunky grew very brave. He told them all about it and how "We" had driven the bandits off. The story grew and grew with the telling until Stacy was convinced that he had fought a very brave battle.

Tad lay awake a long time that night thinking over the occurrences of the evening, pondering and seeking for a solution of what he considered was a great mystery. On the following morning the greater part of the band were off at an early hour, before the boys had risen, on a day's scout, to try to pick up the trail of the bandits. It was to be a day of excitement for some of the party and hard work for others, for many miles would be covered by the Rangers before their grilling ride came to an end.



CHAPTER XX

LEARNING SOME FANCY SHOTS

After breakfast Captain McKay took an hour's ride alone over the surrounding country. In the meantime the boys pitched a more permanent camp as it was more than likely that they would remain there for another night, since McKay did not seem to want to leave the place just yet. What he had in mind the boys did not know.

Returning from his ride the captain appeared to be in much better spirits. His was a strange make-up. None wholly understood Captain Billy. Perhaps that was one of the reasons for his success in his perilous calling.

"Well, I promised to give you boys some lessons in revolver shooting," he said, tossing the reins to Tad who had come forward to take the pony. "Who can put a hole through my sombrero?" cried the Ranger sending his broad-brimmed Mexican hat spinning up into the air.

A flash and a bang followed almost on the instant. The Pony Rider Boys howled. The shot had been fired by Professor Zepplin and he had drilled a hole right through the Ranger's sombrero.

"Well, now, what do you think of that?" gasped Chunky, his eyes growing large. "I didn't think you could hit the side of a barn unless you were inside the barn."

The professor smiled grimly.

"I used to be counted the best revolver shot in my regiment when I was in the army. But I'm a little slow these days."

"Humph! I see you are," grunted Billy. "Lucky for me that you aren't quick or I wouldn't have had any hat left by this time. Anybody else want to try to put a hole through my hat?" he asked looking about.

"I was going to suggest that we throw up the professor's hat and let you take a shot at it," suggested Tad, coming up at this juncture.

"Here it goes," cried the professor sending the hat spinning away from them, with the edge of the brim almost toward them. The hat was spinning low and a very difficult mark to hit.

Tad thought the Ranger was going to take a shot at it, but instead of doing so, McKay nodded to Tad, with a merry twinkle in his eye.

Tad whipped out his revolver with a quickness that amazed the Ranger, and let go. His bullet snipped a piece from the edge of the rim. The force of the bullet turned the hat crown toward the shooter.

Bang, bang, bang! Tad bored three holes through the crown to the captain's amazement.

"There! I guess we are even with you now, Professor," laughed the boy. "That old hat of yours won't hold water next time you go to the spring."

"I thought you folks didn't know how to shoot," wondered the Ranger. "I guess I'd better take some lessons from you instead of you from me. That certainly was mighty fine gun work. Where did you learn?"

"Since we have been out. I am not much of a shot with the revolver, though. I think I can do better with the rifle."

"How about the rest of you?" questioned the captain. "Do all of you shoot like that?"

"I suppose I am about the best shot in the outfit," answered Stacy pompously. "I can hit a penny—-"

"Yes, if the penny is glued to the muzzle," interrupted Ned.

"We'll see what you can do."

Stacy, after three shots, failed to hit the hat once. Walter and Ned each succeeded in placing a bullet through the professor's hat. Chunky insisted that his bullet went through one of the holes made by Tad Butler. He declared that he had never missed an easy shot like that in his life.

"Here, hit my hat," commanded Tad, tossing his sombrero into the air. The fat boy watched the soaring hat with longing eyes.

"Shoot, shoot, why don't you?" jeered the Pony Rider Boys.

"All right if you say so."

Stacy's pistol stuck in the holster and by the time he had freed the weapon the sombrero was only some seven or eight feet from the ground.

"Yeow!" howled the fat boy letting go two bullets with a speed that they had no idea he possessed.

"It's a hit!" cried the professor.

Tad ran forward and picked up the hat.

"Well, what do you think of that?" he wondered.

"Did he hit it?" called Walter.

"Of course he did."

"Oh, pooh! That hole was in your sombrero before he shot," scoffed Ned Rector.

"You are wrong. There were no holes in the hat. Now there are two. Stacy sent two bullets through my hat instead of one."

"Hooray!" shouted the boys.

"I didn't think it of you, Brown," smiled the captain. "I take back all I have said against your character and your ability."

"Oh, don't mention it. That's nothing. I usually shoot my hat full of holes before breakfast every morning when I'm home. Anybody else want his hat transformed into a sieve?"

"I think you have done quite enough," returned the professor. "You have done fully as well as I could have done. Ahem!"

"Really remarkable shooting for tenderfeet," declared the captain.

"Tenderfeet? Well, I like that!" grumbled Stacy. "Why, I'm a lion fighter, I am!"

"And a snake man as well," grinned the Ranger.

"Yes. I'm no tenderfoot. Did I run away when the shooting was going on last night? I guess not. I——-"

"No, he was too scared to run," snorted Rector.

Stacy regarded Ned solemnly.

"Ned Rector, I don't usually acknowledge you to be right in matters like this, but I'm going to admit before the whole company that you've told the truth for once in your—-"

"I always tell the truth," broke in Ned.

"—-life," finished the fat boy. "I was, as our distinguished fellow—-tenderfoot says, scared stiff. But if the truth were known, I'll wager that he was hiding behind a rock when that same shooting was going on."

Rector flushed a rosy red, which brought a howl from the boys. It was plain that Chunky had touched him in a tender spot.

"Come now, you boys, if you want to try some more," called the Ranger.

"What now?" asked Tad.

"I want to see how you are on the draw—-quick." The captain trimmed a piece of paper down to about the size of a silver dollar. This he pinned to a tree, then measuring off twenty paces, faced the mark, spun about on his toes, making two complete whirls and drove a bullet right into the center of the target, having drawn his revolver as he turned. It was a splendid piece of shooting.

The professor missed. He did not even hit the tree. Tad took a piece out of the edge of the target the first time. The second he placed a bullet just inside the outer edge, which McKay pronounced to be excellent shooting. That was high praise from a man like Billy McKay.

Ned did not know whether he wanted to try that shot or not. McKay explained how to draw quickly and at what point of the whirl to draw, but try as he would Rector could not hit the mark. Once he chipped a piece of bark from the tree, which brought a yell from the boys.

"The trouble with you lads is that you grip your guns too tightly. Take a light hold on the butt of your revolver. Toy with it. It's the fellow with the feather-weight touch that does the best work with the revolver. He is the man to look out for."

"That's the way I always shoot," declared Chunky pompously. "If there's one shot that I can make better than another it's that one you fellows have been trying. Why, I could pink that target with my eyes shut."

"Try it. See what you can do. Perhaps you may beat us all, who knows?" grinned McKay.

"I don't say that I can beat you, but I can shoot as well as these amateurs who have been trying it. I can—-"

"Look here, are you going to make that shot, Chunky?" demanded Rector.

"Yes. Got any objections?" asked Chunky turning to Rector with great deliberation.

"Not the least, if you'd kindly hold your fire till I can get behind a rock or a thick tree."

"Yes, that's the place for you, I reckon. All ready, Mr. McKay?"

"It's up to you," smiled the Ranger. "Does it make any particular difference to you which way I whirl?" asked the fat boy.

"Not in the least. You may stand on your head and whirl if it will suit you better."

"For goodness' sake, do something," begged Tad. "You've taken enough time already to shoot the tree clean off the map."

"Who's doing this shooting, you or I?" asked Chunky.

Tad sat down helplessly. Stacy was not to be hurried. The more one urged him, the slower did he become.

"Look out, I'm going to shoot now. Everybody lie low!"

Stacy spun himself around like a top. He had whirled three times when the Ranger shouted to him.

"Shoot before you get so dizzy you can't see!"

Bang!

"Stop it—-"

Bang!

"Stop it, you idiot!"

McKay struck the fat boy's revolver just in time to prevent getting a bullet through his own body. Over yonder the professor lay flat on the ground with a frightened look on his face, shouting at the top of his voice.

"Hold him! Hold him! He'll have us all riddled!"

"Wha—-what's the matter?" demanded Stacy looking around innocently.

"Matter? See what you have done."

"Di—-did I wing the professor?" questioned the fat boy innocently.

"Did you wing him!" jeered Tad Butler.

"Come here, young man. But leave that pistol behind you," commanded Professor Zepplin. "I think we will equip you with a small bow and a blunt arrow after this. Even. then I fear our eyes will be in danger. Do you see what you did?"

One of Stacy's bullets had bored a hole through the crown of the professor's sombrero. The other had plowed a neat furrow through Professor Zepplin's grizzled whiskers, close to the chin.

"Ho, ho, ho! Haw, haw, haw!" roared the fat boy with head thrown back as far as it would go without dislocating his neck.



CHAPTER XXI

A HOLE IN THE MOUNTAIN

The professor gave Stacy a shaking that the fat boy did not forget at once, the others shouting their approval. The fat boy grinned after his punishment.

"I'm a regular William Tell, eh?" he asked looking about. It was still a good joke to him. Even the professor permitted a grim smile to show itself at the base of his whiskers.

"You came near killing Professor Zepplin," answered the Ranger.

"That would have been too bad," replied Stacy almost anxiously. "I shouldn't have had anybody to tease then. Do I try that shot again?"

"You do not!" was the firm reply from McKay.

"I guess I knew what I was about when I hid behind that rock," laughed Rector.

"According to Chunky, you knew what you were about when you got behind the rock during the shooting yesterday," cut in Tad.

"Come, come, boys, if you are going to shoot any more you'd better get busy. I shall soon have to leave you. Who shoots next?" demanded the captain.

"I do," announced Stacy.

"You shoot no more in this camp, young man," insisted the professor. "It's all right for those who know how, but you endanger our lives with your irresponsible actions."

"All right, Butler, I will now throw my hat up from behind you. You will turn and shoot at it when I give the word," said the captain.

The first shot Tad missed the hat by some three or four rods. How the boys did shout and jeer at him!

"I did better than you. I trimmed the professor's whiskers," declared Chunky.

Tad nodded to McKay that he was ready for another shot.

"Don't shoot this time until you see the hat. Shoot a little under rather than over it. The natural tendency is always to overshoot, whatever one is shooting at."

Bang!

The hat in the air jumped as if it had received a sudden blow as Tad whirled and let go.

"You've graduated. Next!"

Rector missed five shots. Walter fanned the rim, then they called a halt in the practice.

"Altogether I am well satisfied with your shooting, boys. Even Brown accomplished something," said McKay.

Stacy grinned broadly.

"I—-I could hit a German, couldn't I?" he stammered.

"Yes, I think you could," laughed Billy.

"Especially if you were to turn your back to him before shooting," added Tad.

"Professor," said McKay, "I must go away for part of the day. I do not believe your party will have any difficulty. The bandits are no longer here. I should not be at all surprised if my men were to round them up, as they are on the track of the enemy at this very moment. If you want to move, you may do so, but I would suggest that you make this your camp for the night"

"I am quite well satisfied here. The boys will no doubt want to go out exploring. I am somewhat interested in the geological formation of the canyon at this point, so we shall all be well occupied during the remainder of the day. You plan to return here to-night?"

"I think so."

"We will see if we can't pick up the trail of the enemy," laughed Tad.

"Do so by all means. Who knows but that you may discover something worth while? I am sure you have an idea in your mind," answered McKay, giving Butler a shrewd glance.

"I will confess that I have, sir."

The Ranger captain did not say where he was going. But shortly after that he rode out of camp and was seen no more until late that evening. After the departure of McKay the professor cleared his throat and stroked his damaged whiskers.

"I trust you young men will try to keep out of trouble to-day. I am sorry to say that you are becoming rather too venturesome. Be good enough to keep in mind that we are in what appears to be a hostile country."

"It strikes me that Chunky is more hostile, more to be feared, than anything else about here," chuckled Tad.

"I agree with you, and for that reason I am going to place Stacy under your charge for the day, Tad."

"Oh, what a responsibility!" mocked Butler.

"I'm glad it isn't up to me," declared Ned.

"You will look after Walter."

"I don't need any looking after," protested Perkins.

"That's why he's put you in charge of Ned," scoffed Stacy.

"Shake hands. We will take a fresh start, Chunky," said Ned, extending a friendly hand.

Chunky regarded Ned suspiciously. He wondered what Rector had in mind to induce him to become so friendly all at once. As it chanced Ned felt that perhaps he had been rather too hard on the fat boy. But the fat boy had never thought of it in that light. Each was supposed to take the jokes played on him and without losing his temper. As a rule each one did, though Chunky seemed to get more than his share of such abuse. Perhaps he brought his troubles on himself.

"Well, if I am going to have charge of you, Stacy, I think I'll take you out in the woods where you can't do any damage to any one but myself. Bring your gun and we'll go shooting."

"My rifle?"

"No. Your pistol."

"That suits me. I am too delicate to tote a rifle around on my shoulder all day."

"Be back early, and do not go far away," ordered the professor.

"Shoot off a rifle if you want us before we get back," suggested Tad.

"Which way are you going?" asked Ned.

"South. Which way do you go?"

"I guess we will go west if you are going south. I want to get a good distance away if you fellows are going to shoot at a mark."

"Come on, Stacy."

The fat boy and his companion strolled off. They were going to take their ponies, but the professor had decided against this, fearing that the boys would stray too far from camp were they to ride. Being on foot he felt reasonably certain that they would not get far away, knowing how averse they were to walking, which is usually the case with those used to riding a horse. A cowboy will mount his pony if he wants to go across the street, just the same as a fire chief will get into his buggy if he goes to a fire on the same block.

Stacy and Tad engaged in a friendly conversation on the way out. Tad was giving his companion some advice. They were talking seriously and for a wonder Stacy was giving serious consideration to what Butler was saying.

They had been going along aimlessly for nearly an hour, halting now and then to sit down on a rock or a log, when Stacy paused, looking about him curiously.

"Isn't this the place where we were shot at last night?"

"Yes, this is the place, I guess," answered Tad, looking about him inquiringly. "Over yonder is where we were stationed. Let's go over and look about a little."

Stacy was willing, so they strolled over. Tad sat down, a thoughtful look on his face, taking a survey, forming a mental picture of the scene as it had appeared during the bloodless battle with the border bandits.

"According to my idea those fellows must have fallen into a hole in the ground about where that tree is down," declared Stacy wisely.

"That is my idea too," answered Tad. "I can't understand how they could have slipped by us as easily as they did."

"Maybe they didn't."

"They must have done so. There is no hole in the ground over there, as you can see for yourself. Even if there were, what good would it have done the men? Let's go over and see if we can pick up a trail of some sort."

"I'm with you. Where shall we begin?"

"You go to the left and I'll go to the right. We will meet somewhere near the fallen tree unless we get side-tracked."

The tree referred to was a huge one. It lay at the base of a great pile of rocks, from which it evidently had slipped. In falling it had carried its roots with it. These roots, massed with dirt and stone, stood up in the air all of fifteen feet. The top of the tree was a hundred feet further out. It must have been a magnificent tree when it stood towering from the top of the rocks there and no doubt was a landmark for all that part of the Guadalupe Range. The trunk at the top stood free of the ground several feet, the trunk nearer the roots resting on an almost knife-like edge of rock that had cut deeply into the trunk when the tree fell.

Stacy gazed at the tree and decided that it would make an excellent thing to climb. He stepped up on the trunk at the roots, walking out toward the top.

"Come on up. The walking's great, Tad," he cried.

"I'll be there pretty soon."

After looking about for several minutes Butler followed his companion. But Tad paused before climbing up. He eyed that towering mass of roots, dirt and stones with interest.

"See anything funny?" called Stacy.

"No, nothing particularly funny. I do see the print of a horseshoe here on the rocks where some dirt has stuck to the shoe and been left on the stone. It isn't any of our stock as nearly as I can determine. I guess it must have been some of those fellows last night. They evidently were shooting from behind the tree here."

"They weren't shooting from behind much of anything, as well as I could judge," answered the fat boy.

Tad climbed up and made his way slowly along the tree trunk. As he neared his companion, he felt the tree settle a little. This at the moment did not make any particular impression on the Pony Rider Boy. Their combined weight might cause the outer end to give a little. Then all at once a howl from Chunky caused Tad to grasp a branch to save himself.

The tree top was settling slowly.

"Look, look!" cried the fat boy.

Tad turned, amazement growing on his face. The roots of the tree had slowly risen several feet into the air, disclosing a hole in the rocks.

Chunky was so excited that he fell off before Tad could say a word. The tree settled back, closing the hole in the rocks.



CHAPTER XXII

THE CAVE OF THE BANDITS

The top of the tree sprang up with such force, when relieved of the weight of the fat boy, that Tad Butler lost his hold and was catapulted to the ground, which he struck with a force that made his bones ache.

The two Pony Rider Boys sat up rubbing themselves and looking into each others' faces.

"Well, what do you think of that?" jeered Stacy Brown.

"I think we got a fine tumble," replied Tad, grinning.

"And I think something else, too."

"Yes, we've made a discovery!"

"A great discovery," breathed Stacy tensely.

"I think so, but that remains to be seen. Who would have thought it? But get away from here! We may have disturbed some one."

The lads quickly scrambled up and, skulking into the bushes, crouched down, watching the roots of the tree, almost expecting them to rise into the air again. Nothing of the sort happened. The birds were singing in the trees, the sun was shining brightly, the heat was intense.

"I'm going to investigate," declared Tad.

"Maybe we've discovered another gold mine, or perhaps a German dugout," suggested Chunky.

"Perhaps, but not in the way you think."

"How do you mean?"

"Wait until we investigate. There may be more to this than either of us think. I wonder if we can weight that tree down so the roots will stay up in the air?"

"I saw some rocks there near the top. Perhaps we can make them stay on so the top will be held down."

"You get up on the tree again and I'll pass the rocks up to you. Place them so they won't slide off. I don't want to get crushed by them falling on me."

"Neither do I want to get thrown off again. I'm black and blue all over, right this minute."

"I think I must be by the feel of my skin. Hurry!"

Stacy ran back to the roots, once more clambering to the trunk, along which he ran clear to the outer end. Tad was ready with a heavy, flat rock which he carefully raised by main strength.

"Now, don't you dare let that drop on me or I'll be mashed flat, Stacy Brown."

"I—-I won't let it d-d-rop un—-unless I—-I fall off."

The rock nearly got away from the fat boy. Butler leaped back out of the way, but Stacy recovered himself in time and after some effort succeeded in placing the rock in the limbs of the tree.

"Fits as if it had been here before," declared Chunky.

"Perhaps it has. We shall see. Are you ready?"

"Yep."

"Here's another."

By the time the third stone had been put in place the top of the tree began to settle. The fourth rock brought the tree down to the ground, exposing the opening in the rocks once more.

"Hurrah!"

"Keep still. Don't move till I get enough up there to equalize your weight. Then you may come down."

The remaining stones were quickly laid in place. Tad motioned for Chunky to descend. The fat boy leaped down. The tree top remained on the ground leaving a wide opening in the rocks.

"Now, Chunky, keep your nerve. You may need it."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going in there. I think perhaps it might be the wiser plan for you to remain out here and keep watch."

"No, sir, I guess not! I've helped discover that hole and I'm going to reap my reward by exploring the inside."

"Come along then. It is taking long chances, but I guess the tree is safe unless some one should come along and trip the stones. Then we would be in a fine fix, shouldn't we?"

"I reckon we would. We wouldn't be getting out of that hole, right smart, should we, Tad?"

"I guess not. We should be buried alive."

"Still, there may be some other opening to the place. We will take a chance. Got your matches?"

"Yes."

"Then you light a match when we get inside. I'll have my revolver ready in case there is anything in there."

Taking a final glance about, Tad moved toward the opening in the rocks with brisk step. Chunky was trotting along behind him, the fat boy full of importance over the discovery they had made. At the opening they paused, glancing apprehensively at the great roots towering above them. Were the butt of that giant tree to settle down now, it would crush them.

The boys stepped inside. They could see but a few feet ahead of them, but saw that they were in a huge crevice in the rocks, a sort of cave formed by the splitting apart of the rocks themselves, perhaps from some long past earthquake disturbance.

"Light a match, Stacy."

The fat boy did so.

"There have been horses in here," announced Tad.

"Yes, I guess there have, but there aren't any here now."

"Fortunately for us."

The air was cool, though a little damp in the cave. To this the boys gave no heed. They had more important matters on hand than observing the atmosphere of the place. The cave they found was much larger than they had had any idea of. In places the roof was all of ten feet high. But as they penetrated further in, moving cautiously, lighting the way with every step, the walls sloped toward the back, approaching nearer to the floor.

Except for the light from the matches, the boys were in darkness, so that they were not able to observe that the opening to the cave had closed. A strong breeze, swaying the upper limbs of the tree, had dislodged the stones and allowed the roots to slip quietly into place again. The boys, without knowing it, were prisoners.

"You aren't throwing your matches on the floor, are you?" demanded Tad turning sharply.

"Yes, why not?"

"Show me a light here," commanded Tad going down on his knees and gathering up all the burnt matches he could find. "That is a fine trail you are leaving. Why, were any one to come in here, he would discover instantly that strangers had been here."

"I—-I never thought of that," stammered Chunky.

"We must think of everything. Our very lives may depend on our doing so."

"Wha—-what do you mean, Tad?"

"Don't you understand yet?"

"I—-I guess I begin to. Some—-somebody's been here."

"Yes. It is my opinion that the very men Captain McKay is looking for have been here. Come, we must be quick! We are likely to be interrupted at any time, though I hardly think any of them would come here in the daytime."

The boys were obliged to stoop in order to continue their explorations further. After creeping under the low-hanging rock they found that they were able to stand erect once more. Then they discovered something else. There were bales piled on top of one another, packs securely tied lying about, guns, rugs, in fact a miscellaneous assortment of goods which the boys believed to be of great value. In one corner stood a chest securely padlocked. It was a rough chest, bound with iron bands that looked as if they might have been used on cotton bales.

"Well, we have made a discovery, Stacy Brown!" breathed Tad.

"We have," agreed the fat boy, his eyes growing large with wonder. "What do you suppose is in that chest?"

"I don't know."

"Let's open it," suggested Stacy eagerly.

Tad shook his head.

"In the first place we have no business to do anything of the sort. In the second place I don't want to stay here much longer. We had better be getting back to camp as quickly as we can. Of course we can't do anything until Captain McKay returns, but the more quickly we get away from here the better it will be for us."

"I—-I'm scared. Aren't you?" stammered the fat boy apprehensively.

"No, I am not scared, but I realize that we are in danger every minute we stay here. Those men wouldn't trifle with us, were they to catch us. Do you know what they would do to us if they caught us here, Chunky?"

"Nu—-nu—-no."

"They would fill us full of lead, that's what they would do. Light another match while I look into this niche. Then we will be making tracks for the outside."

Tad was back by Stacy's side a moment later. He motioned that they were to go back. The boys started briskly for the opening. The instant they had crawled out into the outer chamber they realized that all was not as it should be. At first they did not understand what had occurred.

Tad was the first to make the discovery of what had occurred.

"We're caught!" he cried.

"H—-ho—-how?"

"The tree has closed the opening to the cave. Now we are in a nice pickle."

Stacy was speechless. He held a burning match in his hand until the match burned up to his finger, whereat Chunky dropped the match with an exclamation.

"I—-I'll tell you what let's do. Let's dig through the roots. We can do it. Come on."

Tad laid a restraining hand on the fat boy's arm.

"We won't do that just yet. This may have been an accident. Those stones may have slipped off. I am inclined to think that is what has happened. If so, we don't want to leave any clues—-"

"I'd rather leave clues than to leave my dead body in here," wailed Chunky.

"Buck up! Don't show a yellow streak, Chunky!" commanded Tad sharply.

"I'm not yellow. But I know enough to know when I've got enough. I know I've got enough of this bandit-chasing business. I ought to have known better than to go out with you. They think I can't keep out of trouble. I can keep out of trouble all right if other folks don't lead me into it. Now see what a fix you've got me into, Tad Butler!"

"It strikes me that I am in the same fix. But we're going to get out of it, Stacy—-"

"Yes, but how?"

"I don't know, but I'll find a way."

"Why, we'll starve to death in here. They'll find our bones here a few years from now and they'll wonder—-I wish I had something to eat."

"Tighten your belt. Remember, whatever occurs, you are to leave your revolver in its holster. Don't you dare to draw it unless I tell you to. One little slip might be the death of us. For once in your life be prudent."

"I'll be prudent, but I wish I had a sandwich. Have you looked to see if there's anything to eat in this hole?"

"No, I have something of more importance than food to think about at present."

Tad struck a match, taking a long, careful look about the outer chamber of the cave. He saw nothing to encourage him. Rocks everywhere, with here and there a discolored spot where tiny streams had trickled through, perhaps during a heavy rainstorm.

Tad was thinking with all his might, trying to devise some plan by which they might protect themselves in case they were surprised by the return of the bandits, which he did not think would occur before night, even if then. He reasoned that the bandits were far away else the Rangers would not have gone on a long journey in search of them. That meant that the bandits would not be likely to return until matters had quieted down and the Rangers had left the locality.

"I am afraid we are in here for a long stay, old chap," Butler said finally.

"Another case of being buried alive, eh?" questioned Stacy. "I told you so. I always am right. But I wasn't when I trusted myself to you. You can get into more trouble, and faster than—-"

"At least I don't try to shave the professor with my revolver," retorted Tad sharply. "Hark! What was that?"

"I—-I didn't hear anything."

"Sh-h-h!" Tad gripped the arm of his companion. Stacy repressed an "ouch" with some difficulty. The two lads stood listening.

Particles of dirt were rattling from the roots of the fallen tree, sounding like hailstones as they fell to the rocks in the cave. Then a faint ray of light appeared under the bottom of the mass of roots.

"Somebody is coming," whispered Tad. "Stand perfectly still until I tell you to move."

"They can't see us at once. Don't make a sound on your life."

"Wha—-what are you going to do?" whispered Stacy, his teeth chattering audibly.

"Duck, if I get half a chance. But I don't think I shall. There it goes!"

The great mass of roots rose clear of the ground, exposing the full height of the opening, and the eyes of the two Pony Rider Boys grew large at what they beheld there in the framed circle of light,



CHAPTER XXIII

IN A PERILOUS POSITION

As root mass swung upward, a man with a vicious slap on the animal's thigh, sent a horse bounding in. He followed the horse. Then after him came five other men, crowding in with every appearance of haste. Not a word had been spoken up to this time.

"Now run for your life!" whispered Tad in the ear of his companion. "No, this way. Stoop low. I don't want to get pinned in that other place."

Tad had been using his eyes while glancing about the compartment, and using them to good purpose. He had espied a heap of blankets, either discarded ones or some that had been used for the ponies. He was inclined to the former opinion. He was quite sure that blankets would not be used for the animals at this time of the year. At any rate there was now no time for reflection. It was a time for quick action.

Leading Chunky to the heap, which lay under a projecting ledge of rock some four feet from the floor, Tad forced his companion over behind the pile, then himself crawled in, puffing the blankets over them.

Stacy's teeth were still chattering.

"Stop it!" commanded Tad, giving the fat boy a violent pinch.

This time Chunky did say "ouch!" But before the word was out of his mouth Tad had clapped a blanket over the offending mouth.

"Do you want to be killed?"

"N—-n—-no."

"Then keep still!"

"Wha—-what are they doing?"

"That is what I want to find out if you will lie quiet and not give me any further trouble. They are staking their horses. This must be the stable. The men, as I thought, will go back further. I hope we can hear what they say."

"I don't care what they say. I want to get out of here."

"You never will if you don't muzzle yourself. Now do try to keep quiet while I listen."

Tad raised his head cautiously, but quickly drew it back. What he had seen was the face of the man who had passed himself off as captain of the Rangers when visiting the camp of the Pony Rider Boys a few days before that. This was Willie Jones, the man for whom every Ranger in the state was searching at that moment. And then—-Tad shivered in spite of himself when he made the discovery—-stepping up to the leader to ask him a question was Dunk Tucker, the fellow whom Tad had captured. Dunk had regained his freedom and had joined his band. His presence here indicated that it was not a good place for the Pony Rider Boys. Tad hoped his own fellows might keep close to their camp. He wondered if the Rangers would be able to trace the bandits to their lair, or if the former even knew the outlaws had returned to that locality again. The words of Tucker answered his question.

"Well, we outrode them, Cap," said Tucker.

"Yes, but if you hadn't made a fool of yourself and tried a pot shot on McKay they wouldn't have known we were anywhere about. That was a fool play on your part, Dunk. Your temper will be the death of you. We'll be lucky if it isn't the death of the whole outfit. I don't want any more of it. If you can't control yourself better, the word will go out that you aren't safe. You know what that means?"

Dunk grinned maliciously.

"I reckon I do. How long we going to stay in here this time?"

"I'll let you know when I am ready to go."

"But ain't you going to clean out that camp?"

"If you mean the boys, I am not. I am looking for bigger game just now. When we get through you can settle your little grudge if you want to. I reckon you'll get your fingers burnt, the same way you did before, if you try it. Those boys are pretty slick."

Tucker's face grew black. No need to tell Tad of what the outlaw was thinking at that moment. He was thinking of the time when the boys had made him a prisoner and how they had been responsible for his having been taken to El Paso and locked up. There was murder in the heart of Dunk Tucker at that moment, as Tad Butler well knew.

The men had lighted candles and stuck them in crevices in the rocks, so that the chamber was fairly well lighted. The horses were white with foam, showing that they had been ridden hard. The watching boy understood. The bandits had been hard pressed by the Rangers.

Jones walked away, leaving Tucker standing there nursing his deadly rage. After a time Dunk followed into the other chamber, where the men fell to discussing their escape in tones plainly audible to the boys hidden under the blankets. From the conversation Tad drew that the men had been on a raid and that they had been forced to throw away much of their plunder because of having been so hard pressed by the pursuing Rangers. Still, three small packs had been unloaded from the ponies in the cave and carried to the inner chamber. The outlaws were not in good humor. Their leader was the only one whose face reflected a smile. Willie could smile even when facing a gun. That smile had upset more than one man's aim and saved Willie's life. Jones fully realized the value of his disconcerting smile.

Tad's reflections were interrupted by the voice of one of the outlaws.

"They're here," said the voice. "I'd like to take a pot at them."

"It'll be your last if you try it," threatened Jones. "This is the only safe retreat we've got. We don't propose to give it away by any, such fool play as shooting at a Ranger from it, much as we'd like to get rid of some of those fellows. They're crowding us pretty close. And right here, I've got a proposition to make. By the way, Gregg, what are they doing?"

"Looking for trails."

The outlaw captain smiled grimly.

"Let 'em look. Precious little trail they'll find, and precious little good it'll do them if they do find it."

"Joe said those stones weren't where he'd left them."

"That's all right. Probably some of those boys have been fooling around here. They're a nosey crowd. But there's no chance that they have discovered anything yet. Give them time and they may. Once we break up the Ranger camp the boys will take French leave mighty quick. It will be too warm for them here. As I was about to say, I have a proposition to make to you. Until things quiet down a little it is my suggestion that we get across the Rio Grande and go into retreat there in our old joint. We've got a lot of valuable stuff here that we can't get out at present and we'll have to leave it here. The Rangers are watching this locality altogether too closely for comfort so far as we are concerned. Withem is nosing around El Paso as you know, lying low for some folks that we know of there. No use to take chances when we don't have to. If you're all agreed we'll just slope to the other side of the river and lie low for a month. What's your idea?"

"I'm agreed, if you'll give me a chance to get even with that gang of boys first," spoke up Tucker.

"You mean that you want to stay here after we've gone?" smiled Captain Willie.

"I reckoned I'd like to until I'd done what I told you."

"Well, I reckon you won't do anything of the sort. When we go out of here, none of us comes back till the whole crowd returns. Is that clear, Dunk?"

The outlaw growled an unintelligible reply.

"The Rangers have drawn off, Captain," called the lookout.

"Which way?"

"Toward the camp."

"They're going to stay there all night," decided the leader. "Well, we'll watch our chance and perhaps we'll be able to get away some time late in the night. Are you all agreed on getting across the river if we can make it?"

The men said they were.

"Then that's settled. Get out the grub. We'll feed up while we've got the chance."

No fire was built. The men munched their food cold. Little was said among them.

And now Tad began to ponder over certain other phases of his situation. How were these outlaws going to get out? There surely must be some way of opening the way to the outside. Still, the boy did not see how they could move the tree from the inside. If they could do it he could. He decided, however, that it would not be safe to trust to his finding the secret of the opening. Far better would it be to bolt at the first opportunity.

Stacy had kept unusually quiet, though his eyes had grown large when he heard the conversation of the men. At least there was a peep-hole through which the lookout was keeping watch. It occurred to Chunky that he could yell after the men left, and thus attract the attention of his own fellows. Tad had a different idea in mind, though he had not yet fully formulated his plans along this line.

The outlaws having finished their lunch, some rolled up in their blankets and went to sleep undisturbed by the fact that a band of Rangers was encamped within a short quarter of a mile of them.

As for the boys who were in such a tight place, they hardly dared move for fear of frightening the horses and thus exciting the suspicions of the outlaws further down the underground passage. When the boys did change their positions it was done as cautiously as they knew how. One Pony near them evidently scented them, for it grew restless and kept snorting, but that was all.

The hours dragged on wearily. The boys did not know whether it were night or day. Finally the lookout came down to where Jones was pacing steadily back and forth.

"Well?"

"Something going on over there," answered the lookout, jerking his head toward the opening.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. They're running around out there with torches."

"Where are they?"

"On the other side of the clearing."

"Got their rifles with them?"

"No."

"McKay there?"

"The whole crowd's there."

"They've missed us," whispered Chunky. "They're looking for us."

"Sh—-h—-h—-h," warned Tad softly. Jones pondered for a moment, then he turned to the lookout sharply.

"Wake up the men," he said.

"I reckon something is going to be did," whispered the irrepressible Chunky. Something was.



CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

The waking of the men was a matter of seconds merely. A touch on the shoulder and the man touched was on his feet as if propelled by springs, hand instinctively going to the revolver dangling from his belt.

Tad, now keenly alive to what was going on, had partially thrown the blankets off, Chunky having done the same.

"Don't stir. I'll tell you when it is time to move," warned Tad.

"Men, I've changed my mind," announced the leader. "Are you ready for a fight?"

"Sure we are if it's Rangers you want us to fight," answered a voice.

"Yes, it's the same old crowd, and a bunch of youngsters thrown in. I don't know what the trouble is, but they're racing around out there with torches—-"

"Mebby they've found the trail," suggested one.

"No, I reckon some of the youngsters have strayed away and got lost. All the better for us. The Rangers won't be looking for us."

"They have left their rifles in the camp. They've got their revolvers with them, of course. Take your rifles. Put out all the lights, then while the watch is being kept we'll step out and give them a volley. Be careful to get to one side of the opening so we don't draw their attention too sharply to the opening. That might leave some marks and lead them to investigate when day comes. We'll be a long way from here by that time, but I hope we'll leave a few dead Rangers behind us."

Dunk Tucker was grinning broadly. This was the opportunity for which he had longed.

"Sneak out quietly. Take a good aim. Give them a rattler of a volley. Every man pick his mark. You can't miss. I'll look for McKay. But don't all aim at the same mark or you won't do much damage."

Tad could not repress a shudder. He realized the desperateness of Willie Jones' character fully now. A man who could plan such a cold-blooded crime could have no heart. And the worst of it was that Tad saw no way to prevent the crime.

"How about it up there?"

"They're over in the bush now."

"I want them when they are just outside the bush. If their backs are turned toward us, all the better. We'll give them a hot dose that will give them something to think about," jeered Willie.

"Well, isn't he the cold-blooded fish?" whispered Chunky. "I'd like to take a pot shot at him right where he stands."

"So should I," answered Tad. "But I couldn't do it, bad as he is."

"No, I guess it wouldn't be exactly prudent," returned the fat boy.

"That wasn't what I meant. Prudence hasn't anything to do with it. It would be cold-blooded."

"Ready! Work the lever," commanded the captain as the voice of the lookout called down the one word "Right!"

"Get ready," whispered Tad. "I'm going to bolt. Don't make a sound. We may lose our lives, but I'm going to save the others. If I shoot, drop in your tracks, but be careful not to drop in the opening. Now think as you never thought before!"

"Wha—-what are you going to do?" stammered the fat boy.

"Watch me. I can't explain it to you now. There goes the tree."

The operation of the huge bulk was very simple. One of the men procured a long pole from a crevice in the rock. This he thrust down under the roots of the tree, adjusted it and then began working the pole as one would a pump handle. The tree began to rise at once. Tad saw that the outlaw was working a pneumatic jack, on which he figured a piece of timber had been placed so as not to crumble the dirt from the roots when the bulk was raised by the jack. From the outside the bandits no doubt used the same method that the Pony Rider Boys had used to gain an entrance.

"Keep clear of the opening and don't shoot until we're all ready. One volley will be enough, then back and trip the jack. All ready!"

The men began creeping out, Willie Jones in the lead.

"Now!" whispered Tad. "Follow me! Look out for squalls! Things will happen rapidly when they begin."

The boys crept out, following the outlaws as closely as they dared. Once outside the bandits quickly skulked off to one side or the other.

"Get down quick!" whispered Tad.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

Tad Butler fired three shots from his revolver, then threw himself on the ground. Almost with the first shot he heard the voice of the Ranger captain. McKay, ever on the alert, was not caught napping.

"Throw torches away! Down!" he roared.

A thundering volley crashed from the rifles of the outlaws, answered by a rattling fire from the revolvers of the Rangers. Tad heard an outlaw utter an exclamation of pain and knew that one at least of the bad men had been raked by a bullet.

"Back!" came the command from the leader of the bandits. The word was not spoken loud enough to be heard far away, but every man there heard it, and back they rushed into the cave. A shower of dirt fell over the two Pony Rider Boys, who were by this time crawling on all fours to get away from the tree that they knew would come down with a bump.

It did. The Rangers were still shooting. Tad and Stacy were in a dangerous position. The Rangers were firing right over them. The instant the boys heard the base of the tree fall into place, Tad uttered the owl call.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" howled Chunky.

"It's the boys! Stand fast. Lie low!" commanded the Ranger captain. "Something is going on here that we don't know about."

A moment later Tad and Chunky came staggering into the arms of their friends.

"Surround the base of the tree. They're in the cave," cried Tad.

"Wait, wait!" commanded the Ranger.

In the cave the outlaws were beginning to think. Tad's shots had been laid to the carelessness of one of the men. Each one denied that he had fired them.

"That was a signal. Somebody here is a traitor!" cried the leader.

Out there in front of the cave Tad was rapidly whispering to the Ranger captain what had occurred. He told him the bandits were all in the cave and that he believed the only exit was there behind the roots of the big tree.

"Boys, we've got 'em!" cried Billy. "We've got 'em in a trap. Hurrah! Tad, you've saved the lives of some of us. That was as brave a thing as ever a Ranger did and I'll tell you what I think about it after we have smoked those ruffians out."

The smoking-out process was a matter of some time. At the captain's direction, a row of fires was built in front of the cave so that none of the outlaws could escape. On each side of the row of bonfires McKay placed flanking parties who stood with rifles ready to train on the opening should the bandits seek to escape.

All that night and the following day did the Rangers keep silent watch over the cave. The second night fires were built up as before, and part of the force stood watch while the others slept on the ground with rifles for pillows.

It was not until about noon of the third day that any sign of life was observed in the cave. Willie Jones hailed the captain, declaring that he was ready to surrender. Terms were quickly made. The men were to walk out singly, leaving their arms in the cave. There was no need to caution Willie Jones as to what would follow the least sign of treachery. He knew without being told. Grim Rangers were standing on one side so that they should have a clear shooting space in front of them. Billy McKay stood directly facing the opening, as if for the purpose of tempting one of those desperate men in there to take a shot at him. None had the pluck to try it.

Jones was the first one out. He was manacled and searched. One by one the bandits emerged until every man was a prisoner.

That afternoon all were on their way to El Paso. It would be many years before they would again terrorize the Rio Grande border if at all, for there were many charges against them. Among the charges preferred against the bandits was that of aiding the Germans by stirring up trouble on the border. Not a man confessed, but while the government was unable to prove this particular charge, it was positive that in the arrest of this desperate gang a nest of dangerous traitors had been broken up.

The entire credit for the capture was given to the two Pony Rider Boys, Tad Butler and Stacy Brown. The Pony Rider Boys party accompanied the Rangers to El Paso, whence, later on, they continued their journey down the Rio Grande. The boys were praised by every one for their bravery, and especially were Tad and Stacy, who had so bravely risked their own lives to save the lives of their young companions and the Rangers.

A big reward was earned by the Rangers, but at Captain McKay's suggestion, a thousand dollars was turned over to Professor Zepplin to be divided between Tad and Chunky later on. The professor's protests availed him nothing. McKay said the professor might throw the money in the gutter if he didn't want it, so the professor sent the thousand dollars to the father of Walter Perkins. That gentleman deposited it to the credit of the two plucky young lads, though it was some time ere they knew the existence of this special fund, all their own.

It was the last night in camp before ending their wonderful outing, and every one was solemn-eyed and thoughtful. Their playspell was at an end and they were sad. Tad and Ned were speaking of the war, each confiding his desire to the other, to get into the fight, and expressing his intention of doing so soon.

THE END