Had he been alone he would have given no further attention to the signs, which might mean nothing or a good deal, for he felt able to take care of himself, no matter in what situation he was placed; but he considered that to a large extent the safety of the two boys, who were totally without experience in these solitudes, rested upon him. He must take no chances that were avoidable.

"Younkers," he suddenly said, rousing himself, "I must larn more 'bout this bus'ness; I'm off; don't go so fur from this place that you can't git back to-night; I'll be here and have some news fur you."

And with this parting he strode across the plateau on his way deeper into the mountains.



CHAPTER XI.

A KING OF THE FOREST.

The boys remained standing at the mouth of the cavern until the guide disappeared on the other side of the little plateau. Then they looked at each other and smiled.

"Well, it appears that we are to have another day to ourselves," said Jack; "and we can't gain anything by waiting, so let's be off."

Nothing could be more satisfactory to Fred, and the two took nearly the same course as their friend, who passed from sight but a short time before. They had no intention, however, of following him, for that would have been displeasing to the veteran, who, had he desired their company, would have asked for it.

Without any definite object in mind, they took substantially the route of the previous afternoon. Sooner than they anticipated, they found themselves on the margin of the canyon that had been the scene of so stirring an experience, but the point where they reached it was deeper in the mountains.

"Jack, we can't be very far from that break that Hank spoke of; let's hunt it up."

"I am willing; but before we do so we'll peep over the side, to see whether he or anyone else is there."

No change was to be noted in the appearance of the tiny stream at the enormous depth, but neither friend nor stranger was in sight. They did not expect to see any one, and began moving along the side of the stupendous fissure in their search for the place where Hank had entered it. From what he said it could not be far off, but they were disappointed before reaching the right point. A gradual descent of the sides was notable, and continued until the depth of the canyon was decreased one-half, while the roar became more audible.

"We can't be far from the break," said Jack; "that is, if this descent continues."

They found, however, a few minutes later, that it did not continue, but began to increase, until they were fully as elevated above the bottom of the gorge as at the point where they had leaped it. The width also varied continually, sometimes being only three or four feet, while in others it expanded to nearly ten times that extent. They did not pause to look over the margin again, for their aim was to reach the place referred to by their friend.

At the moment when they began to wonder whether a mistake had not been made they came upon the break. Both banks sloped downward so abruptly that it would have been laborious for the two to work their way to the bottom, or from the bottom to the top, though the masses of boulders, with the tough pines growing almost the whole distance, offered secure foothold.

The picture was an interesting one. At the point where the stream issued from the canyon, its width was about twenty yards. It flowed swiftly, but quickly slackened its pace, since its expansion was fully a hundred feet. This flowed for probably double that distance, when the high banks again appeared, and what may be called the regular canyon was resumed.

Jack and Fred sat down to survey the curious picture. They noticed that the canyon seemed to be dotted at intervals with rocks, some of which rose to a considerable height above the current. Many were near one side or the other, while others were in the middle of the swift stream, which dashed against them with a violence that threw the spray and foam high in air. It was easy to believe that Hank Hazletine had made his way up the canyon by leaping from rock to rock, with little more result than the wetting of his shoes.

"It might be done in the daytime," said Jack, "but I should not want to try it at night."

"The water must be very deep in many places; and flows so fast that the strongest swimmer couldn't help himself. I should prefer to climb the wall, as Hank did."

"But that would be dangerous in the darkness."

"The best thing we can do is to do neither," observed Fred, with a laugh. "I have a good deal of curiosity to know what led Hank to pick his way up the canyon, but I haven't enough to lead me to follow him——"

Jack Dudley suddenly gripped the arm of his friend and drew him back from the boulder on which they had been sitting. Fred nearly lost his balance, and did not know what to make of the proceeding until both checked themselves at a safe distance and cautiously peeped forth. Then the cause of Jack's excitement became apparent.

From the pines on the other side of the stream, and near the middle of the depressed portion, three Indians stepped into view. The first anxiety of the youths was to learn whether Motoza was one of them; but he was not. All were strangers.

They were dressed much the same as the vagrant Sioux, and, like him, their faces were painted, and their coarse black hair dangled loosely about their shoulders. They were armed with rifles; but two of the weapons seemed to be the long, old-fashioned muzzle-loaders, while the third carried a Winchester. Although they emerged from the pines in Indian file, they spread apart and walked beside one another to the edge of the broad stream, where they stopped, as if that were the end of their journey.

Their gestures showed they were talking energetically, though of course not the slightest murmur reached the youths, who took care to screen themselves from view while cautiously peeping forth. Even after the warning words of their guide they felt no special alarm, for they believed the red men were from the reservation near by, and would not harm any one. If they attempted it, Jack and Fred felt they had the advantage of position, sheltered behind the rocks, far above their enemies, down upon whom they could fire with their Winchesters, should the necessity arise.

It was quite certain that the three belonged to one of the hunting parties whose signal-smoke the boys had seen earlier in the day. Their action was curious. They did not look up the bank, so that the boys might have been more careless without being discovered; but it was apparent that two of them were arguing with the third, who was more excited than either of his companions. Finally he turned away and made as if to pass up the canyon, after the manner of Hank Hazletine. He leaped out upon one of the rocks, then bounded as lightly to another, and then to a third, which took him within the canyon. The others watched him without protest or action.

Evidently the Indian who had started off so hurriedly was more impulsive than his companions, for after his third leap he remained standing on the rock; and, although it would have been easy for him to spring to the next leading up the canyon, he refrained from doing do. Instead, he looked around, and then deliberately rejoined his friends, who showed no surprise over his reverse movement. They spoke only a few words to one another, when they moved back in Indian file toward the growth of pines, among which they passed from sight and were seen no more.

"That was a queer performance," remarked Jack; "it looked to me as if that first fellow wanted his companions to go up the canyon with him, and when they refused he started off by himself."

"Only to change his mind."

"There can be no doubt of that; but it strikes me as strange that there should be something up there to attract them as well as Hank."

"Some day Hank will tell us about it. Do you observe, young man, that the forenoon is well along and we haven't had a sight of any game?"

With no thought of the Indians whom they had just seen, the boys began retracing their steps. Inasmuch as it was on the other side of the gorge that they had gained the shot at the buck, the feeling was strong that they should pass it again and push their hunt in that direction.

It did not require long to find a spot where the fissure was easily leaped. In fact, the exploit was becoming quite an everyday thing with them.

"We are not far from the spot where we killed that rattler yesterday," said Fred, recognizing several landmarks. "I wonder whether there are any more near us——"

At that instant Fred uttered a gasp and leaped several feet from the ground, while his companion was hardly a second behind him. Both had heard the well-remembered whir at the same moment, and bounded away several steps before pausing to look back.

Remarkable as it might seem, a second specimen of the crotalus, fully as large as the other, lay on the flat surface of a rock only a few inches above the ground. Evidently it was sunning itself when thus disturbed by the approach of the young hunters, at sight of whom it threw itself into coil. The boys were not in danger, for the warning was sounded while they were still a number of paces distant.

Feeling safe, they stood still and surveyed the hideous thing. They agreed that it was larger than the other, and seemed to be darker in color. But for the fact that the reptiles were on opposite sides of the canyon, it might be believed they were mates. The head and tail were elevated, the latter vibrating with the swift, hazy appearance at the end of the rattles which they had noted before.

Jack repeated the oft-quoted expression: "The heel of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head," and added: "I suppose nine persons out of every ten, when they see any kind of a snake, are seized with an impulse to kill it."

"Even though many are harmless and useful."

"I think the best use you can put a rattlesnake to is to blow him into smithereens, which is what I am going to do."

As he spoke, Jack brought his Winchester to a level and sighted carefully at the pitted head of the serpent. He was deliberate, and did not press the trigger until sure his aim was accurate to a hair.

Fred kept his eye on that head. At the instant the sharp crack of the rifle rang out the frightful object vanished, and the long body broke into fierce writhings. Jack had clipped off the head as neatly as if with the blow of a scimitar, the bullet shattering the neck just below, and at its narrowest portion.

"That's as well as I could have done myself," commented Fred, as his friend lowered his weapon and watched the struggles of his victim, which quickly ceased, for, as has been said, the crotalus species is easily killed, and when one of them has been decapitated he cannot keep up appearances very long.

When it became certain the reptile was dead the boys drew near for a closer inspection. They counted the rattles, which were seventeen in number, proving the reptile of extraordinary size.

"We didn't think to count those of the other," said Fred, "but I am sure it was not so large as this."

"No; but I wonder whether we are going to stumble over them at every step?"

"This is only the second one; we may not see another for a week."

"I hope we shall not; but so long as they are kind enough to give us notice of their intentions we ought to be able to avoid their bites."

It looked as if their experience of the previous day was to be repeated, for within a hundred yards from the spot an animal was discovered on a rock, a considerable distance above them. Fred was the first to see it, and exclaimed:

"There's another buck, Jack! It's your turn."

But before Jack could bring his weapon to a level the animal saw them and was off like a flash. In fact they had no more than a glimpse of it—barely enough to see that it had no antlers, and probably was not a deer at all.

"It isn't going to be as easy work as we thought," said Fred; "I shouldn't be surprised if we fail to get a shot to-day."

"Well, we shall have the fun of tramping ourselves tired. It seems to me that when any sort of game shows itself it comes out in plain sight and is not scared up by us. Let's sit down a while and watch things around us."

This singular proposal was acted upon. After picking their way some distance further among the rocks they chose a seat, and then looked searchingly here and there at the different elevations and prominent points, in the hope of catching sight of some game which would give them a shot before dashing off with headlong haste.

"Right over that part of the mountain peak yonder," said Jack, pointing at the place, "I saw the moon rise last night. I have watched it come out of the ocean many a time, but never saw anything so beautiful before."

He described as best he could the impressive scene, while Fred listened, and for the first time felt regret that he had not been awakened that he, too, might have enjoyed the view.

When he had studied the mountain peak for some minutes, he raised his glass and surveyed it steadily for a while longer.

"I thought so," he remarked; "turn your glass, Jack, in that direction."

Jack did as requested, and saw to what his comrade referred. Perched on the highest portion was an immense gray-headed eagle. Sailing thither from the depths of space, he had paused for a while, with the grand view spread out before him, and what a view it must have been!

It was easy to identify the bird with the aid of their glasses, which were kept pointed for some time at him.

"I wonder whether he sees us?" said Fred.

"There can be no doubt of it, for their eyes detect the smallest object on a landscape. He is probably studying us with as much interest as we are watching him."

"Our rifles couldn't carry a ball half-way to him."

"And what if they could? Would you wish to harm the emblem of our country?"

"No; unless he attacked us, which I don't think is likely. Halloo!"

Just then the immense bird spread his wings and began skimming through the air with majestic grace. More than that, he was coming in the direction of the boys.

"I believe he means to make a meal off of us!" exclaimed Fred; "we would better be ready for him."

"There's nothing to be frightened at. If he intends to attack us we have only to wait until he is near, when we can puncture him."

If the king of birds held any such intention he changed his mind. Swooping far across the intervening space, seemingly aiming straight at them, he suddenly changed his course, and, ascending high in the sky, swept around in a wide circle and finally disappeared over the peak where first seen.

The boys sat for a while in silence, gazing away in the distance, where the noble bird had vanished, half-expecting it to reappear and probably press its attack; but it had taken its flight for good and was seen no more.

"I wonder whether we would have done any better if we had brought a dog with us?" said Jack, beginning to feel a trifle discouraged over their failure to secure a shot at any game.

"I proposed bringing my dog, you remember, when we left home, but you thought we could do better out here. Hank and the rest of them don't seem to place much value on the animals in hunting. Did you hear that?"

From some point not very far off came the report of a rifle, though whether it was the weapon of Hank Hazletine or one of the Indians that had been discharged, neither could guess.

"Somebody else is in luck, and I don't see why we should not——"

Before Fred could finish his sentence both heard the rustling of bushes behind them. They turned on the instant, and saw a sight which held them transfixed, for never had they expected to view anything of the kind.

They had read and heard much of grizzly bears. They knew they grew to an enormous size, and are the most formidable animals found in the great West, but had they been told that there were such monsters as the one before them they could not have believed it had it been related by Hazletine himself.

To Jack and Fred he seemed fully four times the size of the largest black bear they had ever seen in any zoological garden. Had his legs been longer, Fred Greenwood would have pronounced him the equal of Jumbo himself.

Where this Colossus among beasts had come from it was impossible to say, but the terrifying fact was self-evident that he was advancing to attack the boys!

He must have caught sight of them as they sat on the rock with their backs toward him, and, angered at the intrusion, he was sweeping down upon them like a cyclone, furious and determined to crush them out of existence.



The gait of the animal was awkward, but speedier even than the youths suspected. He swung along with a swaying motion, and his claws, striking the flinty rocks as he passed over them, rattled like iron nails. His vast mouth was open, his long red tongue lolling out, and his white teeth gleaming. As if no element of terror was to be omitted he uttered a deep, cavernous growl at every step or two, while his comparatively small black eyes seemed to glow with a savage light, altogether foreign to the species.

All this was taken in at the first glance of the boys, who, petrified for one moment, realized in the next their fearful peril.

"There's no time to shoot!" exclaimed Jack; "we must run!"

"But he can run faster than we!" replied Fred, who stood his ground long enough to bring his Winchester to his shoulder and let fly straight at the front of the beast. That he struck the bear was certain, but it served only to add to his towering rage, and he plunged forward without halt.

Jack had made no attempt to fire, but was running at headlong speed. Fred was eager to thrust another cartridge into the chamber of his Winchester from the magazine, but to do so would detain him until old Ephraim was upon him, and even then it was not likely the bullet would stay or affect his attack.

Accordingly, instead of firing a second shot he whirled about and dashed after Jack, who was thus placed about a rod in advance. Although the ground was not favorable for running, it may be safely said that neither Jack Dudley nor Fred Greenwood ever gave such an exhibition of speed. They held fast to their rifles, for it looked as if the weapons were to be their final reliance.

Fred glanced over his shoulder to learn how he was making out in the race. With an awful sinking he saw that the grizzly was gaining fast upon him. Still he dared not pause long enough to fire, but redoubled his energies, only to catch his foot in a running vine and plunge forward on his face.



CHAPTER XII.

THE TUG OF WAR.

Jack Dudley, being some paces in advance of Fred Greenwood, and alarmed for him because of his greater peril, had slightly slackened his speed, for he was not the one to seek safety at the expense of his comrade. The instant he saw him fall he stopped short, and, wheeling about, fired at the grizzly, and pumping a second cartridge into the chamber of his Winchester, let fly again, both shots striking the beast, who was so close that a miss was impossible.

It need not be said that Fred, having pitched forward on his hands and knees, did not remain thus. No hunter, even if a youth, gives up so long as there is a fighting chance for life. He instantly leaped to his feet, and a couple of bounds placed him beyond reach, for the moment, of his terrible enemy.

The bear seemed to understand who had wounded him last, and, although closer to Fred than to his companion, he swerved to the left and headed for Jack Dudley. The latter did not stay on the order of his going, but made off at his highest speed. Brief as was the halt, it wrought a complete change of situation. Whereas Fred had been in the greatest danger, Jack was now thus placed, because the grizzly was closer to him. Not only that, but, ignoring the younger lad, he gave his whole attention to Jack.

Events were going with such a rush that the boys were almost overwhelmed before they could help themselves. Fred supposed the bear was at his heels until, having run a couple of rods, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the imminent peril of Jack. Then, with a thrill of alarm, he in his turn checked his flight, and bringing his Winchester to a level drove a bullet into the immense head of the brute, which by that time had received a respectable amount of lead in his carcass.

But "old Ephraim" seemed to have determined to dispose of the fugitives in the reverse order of their ages; that is to say, having changed his attentions to Jack Dudley, he did not mean to be diverted therefrom, even though the younger lad was showing disagreeable interest in him.

This peculiar turn of affairs gave Fred his favorable chance; and, standing motionless, he continued his miniature bombardment as fast as he could shove the cartridges into the chamber of his weapon, aim, and fire. Surely the bullets, all of which found a lodgment somewhere in the anatomy of the monster, must have produced an effect, but they could not divert him from his main purpose. He bore down upon the apparently doomed Jack Dudley as if he would not be denied.

This fact caused Fred to be thrown partly to the rear, so that the remarkable combat took the form of the grizzly pursuing one of the boys, while the other boy was pursuing the grizzly. The position of Fred, however, thus became unfavorable, for he was unable to aim at any vulnerable portion of the creature. He continued firing into his body, but the bullets produced no perceptible effect in this fight for life.

Meanwhile the situation of Jack Dudley became perilous to the last degree. To stop and fire insured his certain seizure by the grizzly, who would require but a moment to tear the life from him. Jack saw him so near, indeed, that he did that which no person would do except in the last extremity. He flung away his rifle, that it might not impede his flight, and concentrated all his energies into the one effort of running.

He had no time to look where he was going. He could only strive with the desperation of despair to preserve the distance between him and his pursuer, in the faint hope that something would intervene to save him. Fred was not only firing his gun as fast as he could, but he shouted to the bear, in the hope of diverting his attention from Jack, who could not keep up the unequal flight much longer.

The terrified fugitive leaped over boulders, dashed around interposing rocks, and bounded across open spaces, hardly daring to look over his shoulder, for he knew from the sounds of pursuit that the animal was at his heels. It seemed every moment as if the prodigious paw of the grizzly would smite him to the earth, when no human power could save him.

Suddenly the fugitive, while dashing forward in this blind, headlong fashion, found himself confronted by the canyon with which he and Fred had already had a memorable experience. It yawned at right angles to the course he was following, its width so great that it was impossible for him to leap it at that point. But he knew there must be some such place, and he continued his flight along the side of the chasm, hunting for a spot that would permit him to reach the other bank.

He did not stop to think how this could benefit him, for it was to be supposed that if the grizzly could outrun he could also outleap him, and the moment the fugitive landed on the further bank the brute would do the same, without losing an inch of the advantage already gained. In fact, Jack Dudley had no time to think of anything except to run with all the vigor which nature had given him.

All at once he saw a spot where the feat looked possible. There was no time for him to turn off to gain the momentum, but, measuring the interval with his eye, he gathered his muscles and leaped outward. The jump was diagonal, and made under most difficult circumstances.

Who shall describe the awful thrill that shot through Jack Dudley when, at the moment of leaving the rocky edge of the rocky wall, he was sure he was about to fail in his last effort? The other margin of the canyon wall appeared to recede, and he uttered a despairing cry, certain that the next instant he would go spinning down the frightful abyss.

It is at such critical times that the question of life and death is often decided by incidents so trifling that they are unnoticed. Had Jack Dudley retained his Winchester in his grasp he would have been lost. It would not have been alone the weight of the weapon, but its interference with the free use of his hands. As it was, the latter were untrammeled, and, though his feet missed a firm hold, he instinctively clutched the craggy projections, and, with a supreme effort, drew himself over the margin and beyond all danger of falling back into the canyon.

And where, all this time, was old Ephraim?

The remark just made concerning the effect of trifles was shown as strikingly in his case as in that of the fugitive. Despite his enormous weight and awkwardness of action, the grizzly without special exertion could have made the leap that had just been exhibited before his eyes had he been in his usual condition, but it has been shown that he had been struck by several bullets. Though most of these inflicted little more than flesh wounds, which under the circumstances were trifling, yet others did effective work. This was especially the case with those that found a lodgment in his head, which, big and tough as it was, lacked the power of turning aside a rifle-ball, as the indurated back of an alligator often does.

It is to be supposed that the enraged grizzly did not comprehend the possible weakening of his colossal power through the effect of these pellets, and it is quite likely that even with such weakening he would have accomplished the leap of the canyon, but for the interference of an incident which cannot be considered in any other light than providential.

Fred Greenwood's anguish was for his companion, whom it seemed impossible to help, despite the desperate effort he was making to do so. He saw the grizzly lumbering after Jack, giving no heed to the shots he sent after him, but steadily gaining upon the fugitive, whose fate hung in the passing of the seconds. Fred knew what it meant when his friend abruptly changed his course and began skirting the canyon in his frantic hunt for a narrower place. The bear was so close upon him for several paces that the terrified Fred stopped short, ceased shooting, and held his breath, expecting the great beast to strike down his comrade. The younger lad could do no more, and, staring at the two, he asked in agony that heaven would not desert his friend.

Suddenly Jack Dudley rose like a bird in air. At the instant the monster was upon him he made the leap, landing on the further edge, as has been told, and quickly scrambling upon solid foundation. Had he been ten seconds later nothing could have saved him, for the grizzly showed no more hesitation than he in making the jump.

At the instant Fred read the brute's intention he brought his rifle to his shoulder. Unsuspected by himself, the last cartridge in the magazine of his Winchester was in the chamber of the weapon, so that, if it failed to help, the service of the younger lad was at an end for the time, for it would be all over before he could bring into use any cartridges from his belt.

To make the leap to which we have referred the grizzly changed his position. Until that moment he had been running straight away from Fred, but now, of necessity, he turned partly toward him. Recalling the words of Hank Hazletine, Fred aimed at a point just back of the foreleg, as it reached forward. The ball sped true to its aim, and entering, perhaps, the most vulnerable point of the body, did more than all the other bullets that had found a lodging-place in the grizzly, for it inflicted a mortal wound.

It was this fact that destroyed the effort of the bear at the crisis of its inception. The attempt already put forth carried him well beyond the side of the canyon, but it failed to land him firmly on the other margin. His forepaws went over the top, precisely as the hands of Jack Dudley had done, and began a furious scratching of the flinty surface, while the hind feet clawed with equal fierceness the inner side of the wall. The brute was striving to save himself, and it is to be presumed would have done so but for the cause named.

That last shot told the story. The shot had seriously weakened the bear, and his mighty strength was fast oozing away. His struggles grew less vigorous, though they continued up to the last moment. Jack Dudley had become aware of what was going on, and, stopping in his flight, shouted:

"Shoot him, Fred, before he can climb out!"

Fred attempted to do so, but discovered he had no more cartridges at command. Since the bear at best could not harm the younger, he ran forward to the side of the canyon, just behind the beast. Jack had paused, so that both were looking at the grizzly, whose huge head and massive shoulders protruded above the edge of the canyon. While they looked the head dropped from sight, followed by the forefeet, whose claws scratched over the flinty surface as they slipped backward.

Knowing what had occurred, Jack and Fred ran to the edge and looked down. They were in time to see the mountainous bulk tumbling into the vast chasm. The body maintained a horizontal posture, as in life, until it struck a projecting point which sent it bounding against the other side, where the impact added to the tendency of the first blow, and the body turned over and over, like an immense log rolling down hill. Despite the gloom of the abyss the sun was shining so brightly, and was in such a favorable position, that everything was seen with distinctness.

Peering downward, the awed and grateful boys saw the black mass suddenly strike the foamy waters and send the spray flying in all directions. It disappeared for a moment and then popped up like a rubber-ball, and went dancing down the current toward the break in the walls which they had visited a brief while before.

Still silent and watching, they observed it dancing up and down with the violence of the stream until its motion was arrested by striking an obstruction, which held it motionless. There it stayed for the remaining minutes spent in peering into the abyss.

Jack and Fred looked up and across the canyon at the same instant. They were directly opposite, and hardly twelve feet apart. The elder took off his hat and called:

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," said Fred, removing his head-gear.

"All together!"

And then they swung their hats and hurrahed with the vim which, all things considered, was justified by events. They were happy and grateful, and neither forgot to thank, with all the fervency of his nature, the One who had delivered them in safety from the very jaws of death. No matter what other dangers might come to them, there could be none narrower or more striking than that through which they had just passed.

"Do you intend to stay on that side of the canyon?" asked Fred.

"I don't know that there is any choice between our places, but if you feel lonely I'll come over to your help."

"I thought you might want to pick up the gun you threw away."

Jack looked at each of his hands in turn and laughed.

"Do you know I had forgotten all about that? I don't remember having thrown it aside."

"I saw you do it, and it was a lucky thing you did."

The two walked beside the canyon until they came to a straight place, where Jack easily made the leap and joined his friend. Then they set out to recover the Winchester, which, as matters stood, was almost beyond value to them.

"I can't recall the spot where I dropped it," remarked Jack, allowing his companion to take the lead.

"I do; you and I were doing such tall running then, and for some minutes afterward, that we covered more ground than would be supposed. That's the spot, just ahead."

He indicated an open space, thirty or forty feet in width, lying between a ridge of boulders, over which it was astonishing how the fugitive had managed to make such good progress.

"We shall find it right there——"

Fred checked his words, for at that moment they came upon the spot he had in mind and both swept their gaze over it. Their dismay may be imagined when they saw nothing of the Winchester.

"You must be mistaken as to the place," said Jack.

"I can't be; it was just after you had leaped down from that low boulder that you gave your right arm a swing and away the gun went."

"Did you notice where it landed?"

"I can put my hand on the very spot."

"Do so."

Fred led the way a few paces and said:

"It was there, and nowhere else."

Jack bent over and carefully studied the earth.

"My gracious! you are right; that dent in the ground was made by the stock of my gun, and it couldn't have gone its own length further."

The space was clear for several yards, and they would have discerned a small coin lying anywhere on it, but nothing suggesting a weapon was in sight.

A momentary consternation took possession of them. Only one conclusion was possible: some person had taken the Winchester.

"Do you suppose it was Hank, who wanted to have some fun with us?" asked Fred.

Jack shook his head.

"At any other time I might believe it, but Hank isn't one to look for fun when the lives of two persons are in danger. It wasn't he."

"Who, then, could it be?"

Again Jack shook his head.

"You know there are a number of Indians hunting in this neighborhood. Some of them may have been near us, and, hearing our cries and the reports of our guns, started to find out what it meant. Coming upon my Winchester, they carried it off."

This was the most reasonable explanation they could think of, but it did not lessen their disappointment at the loss of the indispensable weapon.

"I won't stand it!" exclaimed Jack, whose indignation was rising; "the man who took that gun must give it back!"

It was impossible to know in what direction to look for the pilferer, but the youth's long strides led him toward the break in the walls of the canyon where they had seen the three Indians earlier in the forenoon. Whether it was reasonable to expect to find them, or rather the thief, there, would be hard to say, but Jack did find the one for whom he was looking.

Half the intervening distance was passed, when he turned his head and said in an excited undertone to his companion:

"He's just ahead, and as sure as I live the thief is Motoza!"

Before Fred, slightly at the rear, could gain sight of the Indian, Jack broke into a lope and called:

"Hold on there, Motoza! You have something that belongs to me."

The dusky vagrant was alone and walking at a moderate pace from the youth. Although he did not look around until hailed he must have known he was followed, but he stopped short and wheeled about with a wondering expression on his painted face.

There could be no mistake by Jack Dudley, for Motoza was carrying two Winchesters, one in either hand, and a glance enabled the youth to recognize his own property.

"Howdy, brother?" asked Motoza, with the old grin on his face.

Jack was too angry to be tactful. He continued his rapid strides, and as he drew near reached out his hand.

"Never mind how I do; give me my rifle."

But with the fingers of Jack almost on the weapon, Motoza shifted his hand backward, so that the gun was held behind his body. He did not stir, but continued grinning.

"What do you mean?" demanded Jack, his face flushed, and his anger greater than before; "didn't you hear me ask for my gun?"

"Whooh! brother frow way gun—me pick him up—he mine."

"I threw it down so as to have a better chance of getting away from the grizzly bear; I intended to pick it up again. I know you are a great thief, Motoza, but you can't steal that Winchester from me; hand it over!"

And Jack extended his hand again; but the Sioux persisted in keeping the weapon behind him, though his own was in front, where the lad might have been tempted to snatch it from his grasp.

The youth was fast losing his self-command. He had learned the character of this vagrant from Hazletine, and it was plain that he meant to retain the valuable weapon, while Jack was equally determined he should not.

"I tell you for the last time to give me my gun! Do you hear?"

The demand was made in a loud voice and accompanied by a threatening step toward the Indian, who showed no fear. The grin, however, had left his face, and he recoiled a step with such a tigerish expression on his ugly countenance that his assailant ought to have been warned of his danger. Motoza, the Sioux, was ready to commit murder for the sake of retaining that which did not belong to him.

"Stop!" commanded Fred Greenwood, whom both seemed to have forgotten in the flurry of the moment.

The younger was standing a little to the rear and to one side, but his Winchester, it will be remembered, was in his hand, and was now pointed at the dusky scamp.

"Motoza, if you want to preserve that sweet countenance of yours, hand that gun to my friend before I let daylight through you!"



CHAPTER XIII.

A STRANGE OCCURRENCE.

Once more Motoza had allowed an American youth to get the drop on him, for he could not mistake the meaning of that command, nor the deeper eloquence of the pose of Fred Greenwood with his rifle at a dead level. The Sioux must have despised himself for his forgetfulness.

But he had already proven the readiness with which he accepted a situation, no matter how unwelcome. The hand that held the weapon of Jack Dudley whipped round to the front with a deft movement, which, however, was not quicker than the return of the grin to his countenance.

"Motoza friend—he not want gun of brother," he remarked.

"You wouldn't get it if you did want it," said Jack, not to be mollified by this sudden change of front. Instead of accepting the hypocritical proffer, the youth was imprudent enough to add, as he felt his Winchester once more in his grasp:

"You are the meanest thief in the country, Motoza, and this must be the last time you try your hand on us."

"Off with you!" added Fred, beginning to tire with the constraint of his position; "good-by, Motoza, and I hope we shall not meet again."

At the moment of obeying, the Sioux glanced at the lad who had thus turned the tables on him. The expression of his face was frightful. Ferocious hate, thirst for revenge and flaming anger shone through the coat of paint and were concentrated on the younger of the youths. Fred saw it and cared not, but Jack was so alarmed that he almost wished his comrade would fire his weapon and thus shut out the fruition of the horrible threat that gleamed through that look.

It lasted, however, but an instant. Much in the same manner as in the grove, when caught at a disadvantage by Jack Dudley, the Sioux walked off and was quickly lost to view.

Neither of the boys spoke for several minutes. Then Jack asked, in an awed voice:

"Did you see his face when he turned toward you just before walking away?"

"Yes; and I have seen handsomer ones."

"You may make light of it, Fred, but I was much nearer than you, and that expression will haunt me for many a day and night to come."

To the astonishment of the elder, Fred began laughing, as if he found it all very amusing. Jack, in surprise, asked the cause of his mirth.

"If Motoza had only known the truth! There isn't a cartridge either in the magazine or the chamber of my rifle, which reminds me."

And still laughing, the younger proceeded to fill the magazine from his belt and to put his Winchester in condition for immediate use.

"We have been told many times, Jack, that the first thing to do after firing a gun is to reload, and I see how much more important it is here than at home."

When Jack came to examine his weapon he found a half-dozen cartridges remaining in the magazine, and he, too, placed the weapon in the best form for use. They changed their position, returning to the spot where the crisis had taken place with the grizzly, for both felt some misgiving concerning the Sioux, who could not be far off.

"Jack, what about the feelings of Motoza now?"

"It begins to look as if Hank was right. I am sure the Indian doesn't hold much friendship for either of us. He is bad clean through."

"He may have some regard for you, but there wasn't much tender affection in the last lingering look he gave me."

Jack shuddered.

"I never saw anything like it. If he had had the power he would have killed you with that look. I feel like urging Hank, when we next see him, to make a change of quarters."

"Why?"

"That we may find some section where we are not likely to meet Motoza again. I don't understand why so many Indians are off the reservation. There must be a number of them that are friends of Motoza, and they will try some other trick on us."

"He has tried one or two already," replied Fred, much less impressed with the danger than his friend.

"True, we have had remarkably good fortune, but it can't last. Motoza will learn to be more cunning next time."

"If you feel that way, Jack, the best thing for us to do is to go home."

"Your words are hardly worthy of you, Fred," replied Jack, hurt at the slur.

"I ask your pardon. I know it is your friendship for me that speaks, but I cannot feel the fear that disturbs you. Suppose we drop the question till we see Hank. We will let him know everything that has taken place and rely upon him."

This was a wise conclusion, but the fact remained that there was no expectation of seeing their guide until night, which was a number of hours distant, and, since the Indians were in the vicinity, there was plenty of time for a great many things to happen. It would seem, indeed, that the advantage was almost entirely on the side of Motoza, for, with his superior woodcraft, he could keep track of the movements of the boys without their discovering or suspecting his presence. Altogether, it looked as if a meeting with their guide could not take place too soon.

From a point perhaps a mile away came the faint report of a rifle, followed in the same second by another report. The fact suggested more than one startling supposition, but the youths were in no mood to speculate thereon, for it will be admitted that the incidents of the forenoon were sufficient to engage their thoughts.

It was a hard fact, however, that when they looked at their watches and found that it was noon, the most interesting subject that presented itself was as to how they could secure the meal which they felt was overdue.

"Let's make a hunt in a different direction," said Fred. "It is best to keep away from the neighborhood of those Indians, so far as we can locate them from the shots we occasionally hear, for the game isn't likely to stay where they are."

"Off yonder to the north appears to be a valley," remarked Jack, after the two had studied their surroundings for some minutes through their glasses. "I can't tell how extensive it is, for it is shut out by that mountain peak on the right, but I suppose one place is as good as another."

Having agreed as to their course, they wasted no time. It was a long and severe tramp to the locality, for again the peculiar purity of the atmosphere misled them, and what they took to be one mile proved to be fully double that length. Finally the hungry lads reached a ridge from whose top they could look down in the valley that had first caught their attention, but which for the last hour had been excluded from their sight by the intervening obstacles.

"Now, we can't tell whether any game is below waiting for us," said Jack, "but we can't lose anything by acting as if there is."

It was a wise precaution, as speedily became apparent. As carefully as a couple of Indians they picked their way up the slope, and just before reaching the crest sank upon their knees, and, crawling a little further, peeped over the top as if they expected to discover a hostile camp within a hundred yards.

The prospect caused an involuntary exclamation of pleasure from both. The valley was two or three hundred yards in width, and, after winding past, curved out of sight behind the mountain range already referred to. It was one emerald mass of rich grass, in which ten thousand cattle could have found abundant pasturage. No trees appeared anywhere except at the furthest bend in the valley, where a small grove stood near the middle, and seemed to surround a spring of water, which, flowing in the other direction, was not within sight of the young hunters.

What lent additional beauty to this landscape was the singular uniformity of the valley. The slope was gentle on each side, without any abrupt declivities, and there was hardly any variation in its width. The dark-green color of the incline and bottom of the valley gave the whole scene a softness that would have charmed an artist.

The young men admired the picturesque prospect, the like of which they had never before viewed, and yet it must be confessed that one feature of the landscape appealed more strongly to them than all the rest. Perhaps a half-mile away six or eight antelope were cropping the grass, unconscious of the approach of danger. They were near the small clump of trees alluded to, and may have lately drank from the water flowing therefrom. They were in a bunch, all their heads down, and had evidently taken no alarm from the occasional distant reports of guns.

"I say, Jack, there's a splendid dinner!" whispered Fred, excitedly.

"What good will it do us, so long as it is there? I should like to have it here."

"It ought to be easy to pick off one of those creatures; Hank told us they make fine eating."

"That is all true, but it is also true that the antelope is one of the most timid of creatures, and the best hunter finds it hard work to get within reach of them."

"You know how curious they are? The men at the ranch told the other night about lying down in the grass in the middle of a prairie and holding up a stick with a handkerchief at the end of it. Timid as was the antelope, it would gradually draw near to find out what the thing meant, and pay for its curiosity with its life."

Such incidents are quite common in the West, but neither of the boys felt it safe to rely upon the stratagem. They feared that at the first attempt the antelope would take fright and make off beyond recovery, and Fred Greenwood's proposition was adopted.

"There doesn't seem to be any wind blowing, but if we try to steal down the side of the valley we are sure to frighten them off. Now, if you will stay here, Jack, I'll pick my way round to the other side, so that the herd will be between us. Then I'll do my best to get near enough for a shot; if I fail, they will run for this point and come within range of you. Between us two, one is certain to get a shot at them."

"It's putting a big lot of work on you, Fred," said the chivalrous Jack.

"It won't be half as hard to bear as the hunger I'll feel in the course of an hour or two if we don't get one of them."

The plan was so simple that no explanation was necessary. Jack Dudley had only to remain extended on the ground where he was, with his Winchester ready, and keep an eye on the little herd, which could not observe him unless he was unusually careless. He could easily judge of Fred's success or failure by watching the animals, and it would seem that success was almost certain for one of the young hunters. The only thing to be feared was that Fred would betray himself before reaching the other side of the game that was so tempting to both.

The comrades looked at their watches at the moment of separating, and found it was precisely one o'clock. Fred gave himself an hour to reach a point from which to start on his return, though it was possible that double that time would be required. Before the interval had expired Jack had his glass to his eyes, and was studying the valley below.

As the antelope cropped the rich grass they occasionally took a step in the direction of the watcher; but the largest one, evidently the leader, changed his course so as to work back toward the little grove of trees, the others following. Now and then the leader raised his head and looked around, as if suspecting danger, though his fears were not confirmed. At longer intervals other members of the herd did the same, but it was evident that they neither saw nor scented anything amiss.

Jack's constant fear was that Fred would betray himself through some accident. His course would bring him nearer the game and the risk was considerable; but as the minutes passed without anything of that nature taking place, his hope increased.

"More than likely Fred himself will get the shot instead of me. It makes no difference, so that we don't lose our supper; for," he added, dismally, "the dinner is already gone."

When another half-hour had passed, he was sure his chum was on the other side of the herd.

"There must be a break pretty soon. Suppose that instead of coming toward me," added Jack, giving expression to a dread that had not occurred to him until then, "they dash off into the mountains on either side. Then we shall be doomed to starvation!"

He thought that with the aid of his glass he would be able to follow Fred as he stole down the side of the valley, since the position of the spectator was much more elevated than that of the antelope. It would require sharp scrutiny even with the aid of the instrument to do this, and, look as keenly as he might, he could discover nothing that suggested anything of that nature.

When three o'clock went by without any evidence of alarm among the animals browsing in the middle of the valley, Jack Dudley began to wonder what it could mean.

"Fred was sure that a single hour was enough to place himself on the further side of them, and double that time has passed. He ought to be well down the slope, but I can see nothing of him."

One fact, however, was apparent: the antelope were steadily though slowly working toward the ridge on which the young man lay. At the rate they were advancing it would not be long before it would be safe to try a shot.

This progress could not be laid to any alarm coming from the other side. If the animals received fright they would be off with the speed of the wind, instead of inching along in the fashion they were now following.

"It begins to look as if I am to secure the meal, after all," thought Jack, forgetting his slight uneasiness for his friend in his growing excitement.

The following minute gave proof of the timidity of the American antelope. With all the care possible, the youth extended his gun in front of him over the slope, but the herd took the alarm on the instant, though it seemed impossible that they should have seen or heard anything. The leader raised his head, and whirling to one side, started at a swift gallop toward the other end of the valley, the rest of the animals being hardly a second behind him.

The peculiar panic and stampede of the creatures gave Jack Dudley the best possible target, though the shot was a long one. He did not aim at the leader, but at a smaller animal that immediately followed him. The bullet pierced the heart of the antelope, which made a frenzied leap high in air, staggered a few paces, and dropped to the ground without a particle of life.

"Hurrah!" exclaimed the delighted Jack, springing up and dashing down the side of the valley toward his prize; "I beat you, after all, Fred!"

Not doubting that his comrade would speedily appear, Jack gave no further thought to him, but continued running until he reached the prize. He had learned the art so rapidly that it took but a few minutes to cut all he could need for himself and friend. Then he hurried to the little grove near by, washed and dressed the food, which seemed to be juicy and tender, and started a fire for the purpose of broiling it.

He had not paused in his work up to this point, but now he stopped with the first real thrill of alarm for his friend.

"Four o'clock!" he exclaimed to himself; "what can have become of him?"

He walked to the edge of the trees and looked out, anxiously peering in different directions, but nothing was seen of his friend. Knowing Fred's waggish nature, Jack hoped that he was indulging in some jest, but he could not quite convince himself that such was the fact. The hunger of Fred would have prevented his postponing the meal one moment longer than was necessary.

When an abundance of food was browned and crisped and ready the appetite of Jack Dudley was less than it was two hours before, the cause being his growing alarm over the unaccountable absence of Fred.

"I can't understand it," he repeated for the twentieth time; "some accident must have befallen him. Can it be Motoza has had anything to do with it?"

It was the first time that Jack had expressed this fear in words, but it was by no means the first time he had felt it. Rather curiously, from the moment his friend passed out of sight, several hours before, the vague misgiving began to shape itself in his mind. He fought it off and succeeded in repressing it for a time, but he could do so no longer.

"Fred didn't seem to give any meaning to that awful look of the Sioux when he started to walk away, but I saw what it meant, though I never dreamed the blow would fall so soon."

His heart was depressed almost beyond bearing, and the anguish was deepened by the fact that he could see no way of helping his friend. The only thing possible was to follow as nearly as he could the course taken by Fred, but there was no certainty of that. He knew he had turned to the right when he left the crest of the ridge, after which there had been no glimpse of him.

"But he made for a point over yonder," reflected Jack, "and there I'll search for him."

This was exceedingly indefinite, but it was better than standing idle. The antelope had long since vanished, and there was no need of care in his progress—rather otherwise, since he desired to attract the notice of his friend. Jack broke into a loping trot, emitting the familiar signal so often used by both, calling his name, and even firing his rifle in air; but there came back no response, and his fears deepened.

Jack was in the mood to be unjust.

"I don't understand Hank Hazletine's action. He sets out to take us on a hunt among the mountains, and then goes off and leaves us alone. Why doesn't he stay with us? If he had done that, this never could have happened. Fred and I can generally take care of ourselves, but we are not used to this plagued country, which I wish neither he nor I had ever set foot in."



CHAPTER XIV.

MISSING.

The minute quickly arrived when Jack Dudley could no longer doubt that a great misfortune had befallen his comrade, Fred Greenwood.

In the anguish of anxiety Jack's imagination pictured many mishaps that might account for the disappearance. He must have heard the report of the elder's Winchester, and, since Fred's attention was centred upon the herd of antelope, he could not fail to know that his friend had secured one of them for their evening meal. The only thing to prevent his hastening to join Jack must have been his inability to do so. There was the remote possibility that his accident had been of a nature that involved no one else—such, for instance, as sudden illness, though Jack had never known anything like that to overtake his friend.

All that the youth could do was to attempt to follow the route that Fred had taken when he set out to place himself on the other side of the game. It was guesswork to trace his footsteps, but the elder youth made the effort. When he had progressed half the distance, however, he paused, convinced that his labor was utterly useless. He called to Fred, repeated their familiar signals and fired several charges in air, with no more response than at first.

"He has been either killed or carried off by a party of Indians," was the conclusion that forced itself upon him.

And with this conviction came the certainty that it was out of the power of Jack Dudley to do anything for his friend. He might tramp back and forth for nights and days, but with no success, for Fred Greenwood was gone—whither?

Had Jack been skilled in woodcraft, possibly he might have discovered some signs along the valley that would have enlightened him, but he was untrained in the ways of red men and was not equal to the task. A dog that knew how to track a person would have been of immeasurable value, but such a canine was not to be had.

One memory clung tormentingly to the searcher. It was the demoniac face of Motoza, the Sioux, when Fred Greenwood compelled him to return the Winchester of Jack. There could be but one interpretation of that expression, and it boded the worst for the missing youth.

"Motoza feels no affection for me, but his hatred of Fred is so intense that he is bent on revenging himself; yet I did not think he would strike so soon."

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Jack was fully two miles from camp. If he wished to reach their rendezvous before night he had no time to waste. The problem was now in the shape that Hank Hazletine's help was indispensable. If anyone could assist Fred Greenwood, the guide was the man.

"He promised to meet us this evening, and if I wait I shall lose my way."

Accordingly the lad faced in the direction of the plateau and pressed forward with energy. In his haste he kept the former landmarks in view, and his previous experience had given him a certain familiarity with the region which prevented his going astray. Once more he leaped the canyon, without pausing longer than to glance into its depths as he swung over it. He saw nothing of the bulky carcass of the grizzly bear that had fallen a victim to the marksmanship of himself and friend, and just as night was shutting in he reached the edge of the small plateau where the ponies were contentedly grazing.

In one respect better fortune than he anticipated awaited him. Instead of being compelled to pass the intolerable hours in waiting for the coming of the guide, he saw he had already reached the spot. A fire was burning at the mouth of the cavern, and the sinewy figure of the veteran was observed as he moved to and fro before it. Detecting the approach of Jack, he stood erect and silently watched him as he drew near.

A person as agitated as Jack Dudley finds it hard to conceal his feelings. Something in the action and the expression of his white face as he came near enough to be seen distinctly gave the hunter the knowledge that matters had gone amiss with the boy. True to his word, Hank had brought no food back to camp. He had eaten his evening meal before going thither, leaving his young friends to provide for their own wants.

"Where's the younker?" was his question, before Jack halted.

"O Hank! I do not know what has happened; I fear we shall never see Fred again!"

And, unable to restrain his grief that had been pent up so long, Jack broke down and sobbed like a child. The veteran showed a delicacy that would hardly have been expected from him. He knew it would do Jack good to yield to his sorrow for a brief while, for he would soon become cooler and more self-possessed. Accordingly the hunter remained silent until the youth mastered his emotions, when he laid his hand tenderly on his shoulder and said:

"Now, set down here beside me and let me know all about it."

Jack appreciated his consideration, and taking the seat to which he was invited, he told, in a choking voice, the story of the incident beside the little valley, when Fred Greenwood, in high spirits, walked away and vanished as if the earth had opened and swallowed him. Jack did not break down again, for he was resolved to be manly and brave. He would not think of his young friend as wholly lost, nor allow himself to consider the awful possibility of returning home with the message that Fred would never be seen again. Jack felt it was time for action, not for lamentation.

Hazletine was grave and thoughtful, but the youth had hardly finished his narrative when he said:

"You haven't told me all."

"I do not think of anything I have omitted."

"Your story begins with the first sight of the antelope; what happened afore that?"

"A good deal; I did not think you would care to hear it."

"I want every word."

So it was that Jack began with their departure in the morning from camp, and made clear every occurrence down to the start for the valley where the great misfortune overtook them. He realized, while describing the meeting with Motoza, the important bearing that it had upon the disappearance of Fred Greenwood.

When the story was completed the guide emitted a low whistle, followed by an exclamation of so vigorous a character that it startled Jack. Hank sprang excitedly to his feet and strode back and forth until able to control his feelings. Then with a voice and expression of scornful contempt, he asked:

"What do you think of Motoza's love for you and Fred?"

"I admit that you were right and we were wrong about him; I feared for Fred, not for myself, and you see he has not tried to harm me."

"That ain't 'cause he loves you like the brother he calls hisself, but 'cause he hates Fred more'n he does you. If he hadn't had such a good chance to grab the other younker, he would have grabbed you."

"Then you have no doubt that Motoza is the cause of it all?"

"No more doubt than that you're a setting on that stone there."

"I can't understand it; Fred is not the one to let a single Indian make him prisoner, when one is as well armed as the other."

"Who said there was only one of the imps?"

The abrupt question meant a good deal. It had already been proven that a number of other Indians were in the vicinity; but Jack had not thought of associating them with the vagrant Sioux in his hostility to the young hunters, although there was scarcely a doubt that Motoza had had one helper or more in his designs against Fred Greenwood. This put a new face on the matter, and Hazletine discussed the question more freely.

"There must be a half-dozen varmints or so in the mountains; they've sneaked off the reservation and are hunting here without permission from the folks that have 'em in charge. It ain't likely they started out with any other idee than to have a little frolic of their own, meaning to go back when they was through; but, as I remarked afore, when an Injin sees a good chance to raise the mischief with just as good a chance of not being found out, he's pretty sartin to do it. Wal, things took such a queer shape when you younkers and Motoza seen each other that all the ugliness in him has come out, and that's what's urging him now."

"It seems to me, Hank, that if he meant to punish Fred for humiliating him, the method was simple."

"How?"

"By shooting him from ambush; he could do it without being seen, and I can think of no way by which the guilt could be brought home to him."

"You're off there. Motoza knows that you and me are in these parts, and that we're the friends of the younker; what had took place afore, with what I'd swear to, would hang Motoza, and he knows it."

This declaration was not quite clear to Jack, but it sounded as if the guide was willing to so modify his testimony in court as to insure the conviction of the Sioux in case he followed the plan named by the youth.

The veteran would have considered it right, under the circumstances, to do such a thing.

"Since the fear of our testimony restrained him, why did he not seek to remove us in the same manner, when he has had more than one opportunity?"

"And there you're off again. Motoza wouldn't have had any trouble in wiping out two young tenderfeet like you, but he'd likely run agin a snag when he tried it on me!"

The hunter shut his lips and shook his head with eloquent earnestness.

"S'pose he'd done such a thing," he added, angrily; "don't you see that when the Government larned, as it would be sure to larn, that three persons had been killed near the reservation by some of the Injins, there would be the biggest kind of excitement? It would put its best officers at work, and never let up till everything was brought to light. You see that, Motoza not being the only Injin in these parts when the thing was done, the officers would have some of the other varmints to work on, and they'd got the whole story from 'em, which would mean the hanging of the Sioux."

Jack saw the force of his friend's words. Even in this wild region, where one would naturally suppose he was beyond reach of the law, the man who committed a grave crime faced a serious risk. Certainly there was much less danger in "removing" one person than three.

"As it is, Motoza has placed himself in a bad position, but it would have been tenfold worse had he shot you and me."

Hank nodded his head, but qualified his assent:

"He could have picked you off, but not me, and he knows that he would have had me on his trail without waiting for the officers to help."

"But he must face the same thing as it is."

"Don't you see that he had to make the ch'ice atween doing nothing at all or tackling the younker? The Sioux is such an imp and is so crazy for revenge that he made up his mind to chance it the least he could, and he went for the tenderfoot that he hates the most."

Jack tremblingly asked the question that had been in his mind for some minutes.

"Do you think he shot Fred?"

The guide slowly turned his head and looked fixedly at the youth before replying:

"Wouldn't you've heerd his gun?"

The question sent a thrill of hope through the heart of Jack, but it was quickly succeeded by the dull torture that was there before. True, he would have heard the report of a rifle if fired anywhere near him during the afternoon, but a treacherous Sioux like Motoza was too cunning to expose himself in that manner, and would have resorted to a different method.

"He could have slain poor Fred in some other way, but do you believe he has done so?"

"Younker," replied the sympathetic guide, "I ain't the one to trifle with your feelings, fur you don't feel much worse than me, but I own up that I don't know anything more 'bout this bus'ness than you. I mean by that," he hastened to explain, "that I can't figger out in my mind what that varmint has done till I pick up more knowledge than you've been able to give me, and I can't do that afore to-morrow morning."

This sounded reasonable, but it was trying beyond imagination, for it indicated that the long night must be spent in idleness, without the raising of a finger to help the one who perhaps was in the most imminent need of such assistance. There was no help, however, for it, and Jack accepted the decision of his friend without a murmur.

The two sat at the mouth of the cavern, talking in low tones, until the night was well advanced, when Hank said, with a voice that sounded wonderfully low and tender for him:

"Now go in and lay down, younker, fur there'll be plenty of work fur you to do to-morrer, and there's no saying when you'll git the chance to sleep agin."

"Call me when it is my turn to go on guard."

"All right; and don't show yourself till I do call you."

Jack walked into the cavern, first pausing to fling some wood on the fire. Mingled with his feeling of despair was a dread of being alone in the gloom. He did not believe he would sleep a wink through the night, for never were his emotions wrought to a more keenly torturing point. It was almost impossible to remain still, but he forced himself to lie down, with his heavy blanket gathered around him.

It would be distressing to dwell upon the anguish and grief of the youth, as he lay wide awake, his brain alert and his blood at fever-heat. At times it all seemed so like a dream that he turned his head to make sure Fred Greenwood, his loved chum and comrade, was not lying at his side. But no, it was all a dreadful reality, and he groaned in spirit.

As the minutes passed he appeared to grow more wakeful, until he was in as full possession of his faculties as when fleeing from the grizzly bear. And it was while lying thus, wondering what the hour could be, that he became aware that Hank Hazletine was standing at the mouth of the cavern, on the other side of the smouldering fire. The light was reflected so clearly from his bearded face that it was seen distinctly, while the position of Jack, muffled in his blanket, threw his own countenance in shadow, which prevented the guide seeing it clearly.

Something prompted Jack to lie still and feign sleep, while he kept his gaze on the man, who was looking fixedly at him. Suddenly Hank pronounced his name in a low voice, repeating the call in a louder tone. He wished to learn whether his young friend was unconscious, and, since Jack made no reply, must have concluded he was sleeping.

The guide next threw more wood on the blaze, which burned up so brightly that the reflection reached far out on the grassy plateau. Then, with a single glance at the prostrate figure, the hunter turned away, his footsteps as noiseless as if he were stepping on velvet.

Jack was mystified by the proceeding, but, suspecting its meaning, he arose from his hard couch and passed outside. The moon had not yet risen, but the bright stars were in the sky, and shining with the brilliancy that he had noticed and admired on the previous evening. He looked around for Hazletine, and, not seeing him, imitated his action by pronouncing his name, but, as he suspected, he was not within hearing.

"He has gone off to make some investigations between now and morning. I am glad of it, for he may learn something which he desires to know, and which he would never find out by staying here. I wish I could have gone with him, but no doubt he will do better alone."

It was demonstrated, therefore, that the guide had violated the very rule which he had impressed more than once upon his young friends, for he had left Jack Dudley sound asleep, as he believed, without any one standing sentinel over him. But it was because the circumstances were so exceptional and extraordinary that it justified such suspension of the rules.

Jack did not hesitate to make himself as comfortable as the situation would permit. He folded his blanket on the ground, and sat with his back against the very rock where he had fallen asleep the night before.

"No danger of my doing it again," he reflected; "and it wouldn't make any difference if I did, since Hank believes I am dreaming."

Jack supposed he threw the wood on the flame to keep away the possible danger from wild animals that might be prowling in the neighborhood; though, because of the reasons named, there was little to be apprehended from them. The youth was so alive to the situation that he heard a cough from one of the ponies lying on the ground near the further side of the plateau, and beyond sight. Twice the watcher fancied he detected a shadowy figure stealing here and there in the gloom, and he grasped his rifle, ready for instant use; but it must have been a mistake on his part, for nothing materialized, and, curious as it may seem, he finally sank into a fitful slumber, which lasted a long time without interruption.



CHAPTER XV.

TOZER.

Meanwhile Hank Hazletine was busy. He had formed several theories to account for the disappearance of the youth, of whom he had grown extremely fond, brief as was their acquaintance, but the data upon which he based these theories were so vague and meagre that he could do nothing until more definite knowledge was obtained.

When first talking with Jack Dudley, the hunter expected to retain his place near the cavern until morning, for it would seem that there was little hope of doing anything until the sun shone, but reflection convinced him that there was a possibility of accomplishing something during the long interval that must intervene. Still it is not probable he would have made the attempt had not something invited it.

Standing in the gloom on the outside of the cavern, he saw a point of light against the side of the nearest mountain peak, less than half a mile distant. It could not be a star, for his familiarity with the country told him the background must prevent an orb showing at that height above the horizon. It came from a fire burning at the place, and that fire had been kindled by Indians.

Hank's decision was to visit the camp, in the hope of picking up some information about the missing boy. It has been shown that he was so convinced that no danger threatened Jack Dudley that he did not hesitate to leave him alone, believing him asleep. As a precaution, however, he flung additional fuel on the fire, with a view of keeping away any wild animals that might be in the vicinity. Had Jack answered to his name when called by the guide he would have been invited to accompany him for a portion at least of the way on the reconnaissance, as it might be termed—a most welcome relief. Thus, trifling as was the deception, it operated unfavorably for our young friend.

The progress of the veteran through and over the rough country was a very different proceeding from that of the two boys. He seemed never to hesitate or be in doubt as to the shortest and easiest course, and his advance, therefore, was much the same as if he were striding across the grassy plateau near camp. As he went forward his shifting position frequently shut out the beacon-light, but he made no mistake at any point in his walk. It was a striking proof of his woodcraft that when he reached the canyon it was at a spot where it was so narrow that he appeared merely to lengthen his step when he placed himself on the other side. Progressing in this manner, it did not take him long to reach the immediate vicinity of the camp.

The blaze had been kindled among a clump of cedars which were a continuation of a growth that extended with more or less vigor for miles among the mountains, gradually disappearing as the snow-line was reached. Hazletine recalled the particular spot so clearly that he knew precisely what to do.

It was not very late in the evening, else there would have been one of the Indians on guard. As it was, the three were lolling in lazy attitudes, smoking their long-stemmed pipes and talking in a disjointed fashion. If they had eaten anything in camp, there were no evidences of it.

Having reached a point from which he could survey the party without being observed, the hunter proceeded to do so. His first feeling was of disappointment, for Motoza was not one of the three bucks, who appeared to be in middle life, and were dressed and painted similarly to that individual. In fact, the trio were the ones seen by the youths earlier in the day, at the point where the break in the canyon occurred.

Hazletine had set out with the belief that the vagrant Sioux was the one chiefly concerned in the disappearance of Fred Greenwood. His absence from camp confirmed that belief, while the indifferent manner of the three, and the apparent lack of subjects of discussion among them, indicated that they knew nothing of the abduction or death, as it might be, of the missing one. Had they known of it, the guide was confident it would have been betrayed by their manner, since they could have no suspicion that they were under surveillance at that time, and therefore would act their natural selves.

What would have been the course of Hazletine had he seen Motoza, not doubting, as he did, the guilt of the miscreant? He would have walked directly forward to the camp and warned the Sioux that if he harmed a hair of the youth's head his life should pay therefor.

Since Motoza was not in the situation thus to be warned, the hunter did the next best thing. With no attempt to veil the sound of his footsteps, he strode into the circle of light thrown out by the Indian camp-fire. The bucks looked up curiously at him, but betrayed no emotion beyond a few grunts. They did not invite him to be seated or to join them in smoking, and had they done so, neither invitation would have been accepted.

Hank knew nothing of the lingo of the red men, but it was presumed they had a fair understanding of English, taking which for granted, he proceeded to carry out his self-imposed mission. He told the bucks they had no business off their reservation, although it was a matter of indifference to him. He knew there were others in the mountains, and Motoza was among them. It was concerning this scoundrel, as Hank characterized him, that he had something to say. A white youth, while hunting that afternoon not far off, with his companion, had disappeared. Hazletine had looked into the matter far enough to discover that he had been stolen by Motoza. The white man was hunting for Motoza, but in the brief time at his disposal had not been able to find him, though he was confident of doing so on the morrow.

Meanwhile, the white man wanted these three, or any one of them, if they should meet the aforementioned scoundrel, to repeat what he had said about him. If any harm had befallen the missing boy, Hazletine would take it upon himself to hunt down Motoza and "execute" him himself, without waiting for the United States authorities to do it. Such a summary course would save expense and make the white man feel better.

If Motoza should return the stolen boy within twenty-four hours, and it was found he was unharmed, the whole matter would be treated as a joke, and no punishment would be visited upon Motoza, provided he didn't do it again.

This was the substance of Hank Hazletine's communication to the three bucks, to whom he repeated and discussed it until there was no fear of a misunderstanding, after which the visitor strode out of camp, without so much as bidding the trio good-night. His whole manner was that of contempt, for, had it been otherwise, he would not have dared to turn his back upon them, when they could have shot him down with impunity.

The cowman had accomplished something, though less than he hoped. While he failed to gain definite knowledge of the missing youth, he had brought a message which was certain to be delivered to the right party before the next set of sun. But Hank knew the men with whom he was dealing, and could not feel assured that any ultimate good would result until nearer the end.

"I wish I knowed whether them imps know anything about that younker; they don't act as if they did, and yet they may be as deep in the bus'ness as Motoza."

The last remark suggested a possibility which the cowman shrank from considering. It was that the Sioux was wholly innocent, and that all the mischief had been done through unsuspected parties. It has been shown that other Indians, not yet encountered, were in the vicinity, and it was not absolutely certain that they were not the criminals. The thought, however, opened the illimitable fields of speculation, and the hunter was wise in determining to hold to his original belief until assured it was an error.

Before he was half-way back to camp the moon appeared above the mountain peak behind him, and the rugged scenery was lit up by the rays that streamed on every side. He paused where he could observe the gleam of his own camp-fire at the mouth of the cavern, while, by turning his head, he saw the twinkle of the one he had left behind. All between lay as silent as the tomb.

"I bluffed it pretty heavy," he reflected, "and I guess it'll work with them bucks; I ain't so sartin of Motoza, fur if he has had anything to do with the taking off of that younker he's covered up his tracks pretty well and it'll be hard work to run him down, but I'll do it!" he savagely exclaimed, as he resumed his strides toward his own camp.

As he drew near he caught sight of the unconscious figure of Jack Dudley, sitting with his back against the rock. The moon revealed him clearly, and the cowman approached him with noiseless step.

"Poor fellow! he come out here to watch, thinking he couldn't sleep, and now he's good for nothing till sunup."

Hank leaned over and tenderly adjusted the blanket around the figure of the handsome youth, as his mother might have done had she been present. Then passing within the cavern, he lay down and slept until the night was ended.

The presence of the lad on the outside of the cavern showed that he knew of the departure of the guide. Hank, therefore, explained his reason for leaving him, and told him all that had occurred.

"The first thing to do, younker, is to find Motoza; that's what I'm going to do. You can't stand it to be alone with yourself, so you can come with me, though I hain't no idee that you'll be able to give any help."

"I hope I shall; though, if you think there is more chance of success in making the hunt alone, I'll do the same."

Hank was silent a moment, as if considering the matter, but he quickly added:

"Come along. But how about breakfast?"

"I haven't the least appetite."

"I thought so by your looks," he said, sympathizingly. "I'm blamed sorry fur you, and hope your appetite will soon come back to you."

"It will as soon as we find Fred," said Jack, with a faint smile; "but what about yourself?"

"It's all the same; if we had meat here I'd cook and eat it; but I'm willing to go a day or two, if I haven't the time to take any meals."

"That's strange!" broke in Jack; "yonder comes a white man; he must be one of your acquaintances, though I never saw him before."

Hazletine turned round in surprise. A tall white man, dressed as a cowboy, with long dangling yellow hair and a thin mustache and goatee, and with rifle slung over his shoulder, had appeared on the further side of the plateau, and was approaching the couple at a deliberate pace.

"Wal, I'm hanged!" exclaimed Hazletine; "if there isn't Bill Tozer! He's the last man I expected to meet in these parts."

These words did not bring Jack Dudley much enlightenment, but he felt no special curiosity concerning the individual, and silently waited till he came up. The youth judged from the manner of the guide, however, that he was not overly pleased with the new arrival, whose countenance was not attractive. Nevertheless, the two shook hands with seeming cordiality, and the new-comer looked inquiringly at Jack.

"This is a friend of mine, Bill, that I took out on a hunt t'other day with another younker; Jack Dudley, Bill Tozer."

"Glad to know you," said the man heartily; "I see you're a tenderfoot."

"Yes," replied Jack; "less than two weeks ago I had never set foot in Wyoming."

"Wal, now that's funny; you'll like the country after you get used to it."

"Would to heaven I had never seen it!" was the bitter exclamation of the youth, hardly able to keep back his tears.

"Sorry to hear that, my young friend; but cheer up; it'll come out all right."

It struck Jack that this was a singular remark for the man to make, for it sounded as if he knew the cause of Jack's emotion; but before the boy could seek enlightenment the man made a more extraordinary remark:

"You'll excuse us for a few minutes, my young friend; I've some words to say in private to Hank."

"Certainly," replied Jack, turning on his heel and walking beyond earshot. He gave the men no further attention, for he did not suspect the new-comer had anything to impart of interest to him. The boy felt more like resenting this interference with the momentous business he and the guide had on hand.

But Jack was mistaken. Hardly was he a hundred feet from the couple when Hazletine asked:

"What's up, Bill?"

"One of them young tenderfeet is missing, eh?"

"How did you find that out?"

"I reached the camp of Bok-kar-oo last night within a half-hour after you'd gone; he and two other bucks are out on a hunt, which they haven't any business to be, but that's nothing to us. Bok-kar-oo told me what you had told him; it's queer business, isn't it?"

"I should say it was. That Motoza has had a hand in it, and I've set out to find him and settle the account."

"Why are you so sure about Motoza?"

"'Cause I know him!" said Hank, savagely; "and I've knowed him fur a good many years; there isn't a worse Injin in Wyoming."

Instead of commenting on this remark, Tozer stood silent a moment, and then made a flirt with his head as a request for Hank to step aside with him. The cowman obeyed, and they seated themselves still further from Jack Dudley.

"What makes you so afeard he'll hear us?" asked Hazletine, impatiently, noting the suspicious glances which the man cast in the direction of the youth.

"For the reason that I don't want him to hear us; I've something to say about him and his friend."

"His father owns half of Bowman's ranch."

Bill Tozer started with an angry exclamation.

"Is that so?" he asked in amazement. "I thought it was the other fellow's father."

"How should you know anything about it anyway?" demanded Hazletine, who made no attempt to conceal his dislike of the man. "I'd like to know where you picked up so much knowledge 'bout these two younkers."

"There's no need of getting huffy about it, Hank; it seemed to me that I was to be on your heels for the last few days, for I stopped at the ranch and had a talk with the fellows only a short time after you left with the tenderfeet for this hunt. I understood Kansas Jim to say that it was the father of the Greenwood boy that owned half the ranch."

"If Jim told you that, which I don't believe he done, he told you what ain't so."

"But the father of the other boy—the one that's missing—he's rich too, ain't he?"

"I don't know nothing 'bout it; what are you driving at? Bill, you know that my 'pinion of you is 'bout the same as it is of that tramp Motoza, so, if you've got anything to say to me, out with it! I hain't any time to fool away."

"I have something to say, Hank, and it's about them young tenderfeet: I've seen Motoza."

"When?"

"This morning."

"Did you give him my message?"

"Every word of it, as I received it from Bok-kar-oo; I made it as strong as I could."

"You couldn't make it any too strong; how did he take it?"

"It didn't seem to worry him much; he says he don't know anything about the missing boy and your threats don't scare him. But, Hank," added Tozer, lowering his voice almost to a whisper and glancing furtively around, "I suspect Motoza was lying."

"I know he was, fur he doesn't know how to tell the truth."

"If he's treated right, I believe he'll produce the missing youngster."

Hank Hazletine was keener mentally than most of his friends suspected. He had more acumen than even Bill Tozer suspected. A great light flashed upon the cowman, and the questions and answers which fell from his lips during the next few minutes were intended to hide his real purpose.

"What do you mean by treating Motoza right? If he was treated right he'd be kicking the air this very minute."

"I agree with you," said Tozer, laughing; "but Motoza doesn't, and he's the one who asks to be treated right, as he considers it."

"I've said that if he produces the younker, and we find he hain't been harmed, why we'll call it a joke and drop the whole thing."

Tozer gazed at a distant mountain peak and thoughtfully chewed tobacco for a minute. He was approaching delicate ground and needed all his finesse.

"That's fair on your part, and is more than he ought to expect, but I've a suspicion it isn't what he means."

"Do you know what he means, Bill?"

"No; he hasn't told me a word, but I think I can guess it."

"Wal, then, guess."

"Remember it's only a guess, and I may be away off."

Hazletine nodded his head.

"I'm listening."

"I suspect Motoza has the tenderfoot in hiding somewhere, where there's no chance of his getting away or of any of his friends finding him."

"What does the scamp mean by doing that?"

"He must have had an idea that the father of the Greenwood boy has enough money to pay a good sum to recover him unharmed."

"That's a new scheme! I've heard of such things in the East, but never knowed 'em to be tried in this part of the country."

"Bear in mind," Tozer hastened to add, "that it's all guesswork on my part."

"You've said that afore, but it's powerful good guessing, Bill. It's my 'pinion you ain't a thousand miles from the truth, but you can see this makes a mighty different thing of the bus'ness."

"How so?"

"The younker's father lives in New York; he's got to be reached, and the question laid afore him. How much money will Motoza ask to produce the younker?"

"Certainly not much—something like five thousand dollars, I should say."

"That is rather a healthy pile for you or me, but I don't 'spose it's more than a trifle for them folks in the East."

"Of course not; they'll raise it at once, and be glad to do so."

"But it'll take two weeks at least."

"Not necessarily; you can telegraph from Fort Steele, and two or three days ought to wind up the whole business."

"But you can't telegraph the money."

"Yes, you can; nothing is easier."

Hazletine was silent a minute or two.

"It sounds easy 'nough, the way you put it, but it won't be so powerful easy after all. I s'pose the Sioux will want the money afore he turns over the younker?"

"Of course; that's business."

"How can we know he'll give up the younker after he gits the money?"

"In a matter of this kind, a point must be reached where one party has to trust the other, and Motoza wouldn't dare play you false."

"He wouldn't, eh? Just give him the chance."

"Then we won't let him. I'll guarantee that he shall keep his part of the agreement in spirit and letter."

It was on Hazletine's tongue to ask who should guarantee the honesty of Bill Tozer, but for reasons of his own he kept back the question.

"Wal, now, to git down to bus'ness, as you say; s'pose Doctor Greenwood sends word that he won't or can't raise the money you ask—what then?"

Tozer shrugged his shoulders suggestively.

"Don't forget that I am guessing all the way through. I should say, however, that Doctor Greenwood would never see his boy again."

"I'm afraid he never will, as the matter now stands."

"That depends on the parent. If he is not rich, the father of that young man over yonder is, and he would let him have the money."

"No doubt he'd do that very thing; but s'pose the thing is all fixed and carried out as you've been saying—does Motoza fancy there won't be some accounts to be squared with him afterwards?"

"You know what a cunning fellow he is. He wouldn't go through with the job until he was guaranteed against any punishment for his part in it."

"The father of the younker would give the pledge, and he'd keep it, too, if he's anything like his son. But what 'bout Hank Hazletine?"

"He would have to make the same promise—that is, I presume he would. It might be, however, that Motoza would feel able to take care of himself, so far as you are concerned. But we are talking blindly."

"Is there any other way to talk?"

"You say you were just about starting out to hunt up Motoza. You won't be able to find him, for he'll keep out of your sight. Leave that part of the business to me."

"What'll you do?"

"I'll explain the situation to him, and then come back and have another talk with you."

"All right; you can't do it any too soon."



CHAPTER XVI.

WATCHING AND WATCHED.

Bill Tozer rose to his feet. The interview was over, and little remained to be said between the two.

"Then, Hank, you'll leave matters with me till I see you again?"

"When will that be?"

The man stood a moment in thought.

"In order that there shall be no mistake, let us agree that I shall call here to-morrow morning—twenty-four hours from now. How does that strike you?"

"That will do."

"I can make it less time than that, if you wish it."

"That suits; it's a go; good-by."

"Good-by," and the visitor turned on his heel and strode across the plateau, disappearing on the further margin, where he had first shown himself.

Hank Hazletine stood looking after him as long as he was in sight. When at last he vanished, an expression of scornful contempt darkened the bearded face of the cowman, and he muttered:

"Bill Tozer, you think you're smart, but I understand you!"

In the interview which has just been recorded the visitor believed he had outwitted the guide at every step, and yet exactly the reverse was the fact. Hank Hazletine had pretended a stupidity which was not real. He noted the contradictions in the declarations of Tozer the instant they were made, but gave no evidence of it, his object being to draw out the miscreant, in which purpose he succeeded perfectly.

The whole truth was manifest to the guide. Fred Greenwood had been abducted not by Motoza alone, but by him and Bill Tozer. Beyond a doubt the daring scheme was the invention of the white man, who found a willing partner in the vagrant Sioux, who burned with enmity toward the youth. It was Tozer who made the mistake of supposing that the father of Fred was half-owner of the ranch, and, therefore, presumably a rich man. Tozer had formed the plan of the abduction while at Bowman's ranch, and showed by his promptness that he had not allowed the grass to grow under his feet.

These meditations occupied but a few minutes, when the cowman walked toward Jack, who, seeing him approaching, advanced to meet him. Hazletine felt that the change of conditions made it necessary to talk more freely than heretofore with the boy.

"Hank, it seems to me we are throwing away time," said the youth, a trifle impatiently.

"I'm not so sure of that, younker. I've news fur you."

The guide had a good memory, and he repeated, almost word for word, all that had been said by Tozer and himself. Jack was astounded. His first emotion was of profound gratitude and delight, for the interview seemed to establish that Fred Greenwood was alive, and consequently within reach of recovery.

"He's not dead!" exclaimed the happy lad; "thank Heaven for that! I shall soon see him! It seems too good to be true."

"It isn't best to be sartin of anything in this world," remarked his friend, with a gravity of expression that ought to have chilled the ardor of Jack, but it did not. The tidings were too exhilarating for that.

"Now, younker," added the man, "we've got more time on our hands than we know what to do with. Come over by the fire and set down fur a while. How's that appetite of yours?"

"I am beginning to feel hungry."

"I thought so," observed Hank, with a smile.

"But there's no hurry. I can wait a little while."

"You'll have to."

"Now tell me who this man Tozer is?"

"Wal, he's a reg'lar Motoza, except in blood. I run across him five years ago in Arizona, where he had been in the stage-robbin' bus'ness. Things got so hot he had to git out. I didn't hear anything more of him till I was driving cattle in Montana, when I discovered he was one of the worst rustlers in that part of the world. I'm sartin he has done a good many things fur which he ought to hang, but he's more cunning in his way than the Sioux, and has kept out of the penitentiary when anyone else would have been doing a life-term. Bill is a great gambler, and has made and lost fortunes, but he is always out of money and figgering how to git it ag'in. There isn't anything too mean fur him to do fur money. He doesn't care any more fur the feelings of others than Geronimo."

"It looks as if the plan of abducting Fred and holding him for ransom is his."

"There ain't no doubt of it; he come to the ranch soon after we'd gone and larned all 'bout you tenderfeet from the boys themselves. The thought come to him at once that one of the chances of his lifetime was his. It's queer he made the mistake of believing that it was the father of the other younker as owned part of the ranch, but he got matters twisted in some way. You can see that if it hadn't been fur that blunder of his, it would be you that your friend and me would be looking fur."

"I wish it were," was the honest exclamation of Jack Dudley; "but how was it he came to form his partnership with Motoza?"

"You've heard it said the devil takes care of his own; Bill and Motoza are old friends and have been in more than one shady job. I can't know, but I think Bill must have larned or suspicioned that the Sioux warn't fur off and he set out to hunt him up. Anyway they managed to come together, and the job was fixed up atween 'em. Howsumever," said the guide, "there ain't no use of talking and guessing over what has been, but we must face what is. Now, if Doctor Greenwood has word by telegraph that he must pay five thousand dollars to git his younker back agin, what'll he think?"

"He will think that this has been a pretty expensive outing for Fred," replied Jack, whose buoyancy of spirits prompted his trivial answer.

"Will he pay the money?"

"Yes, and twice as much more, if it is necessary; but won't he be startled and puzzled to know the meaning of it all! He will come right out here himself and bring some of the best detectives in the country."

"And if he does that, he'll never see his boy alive."

Jack looked at Hazletine in alarm and amazement. The cowman saw phases of this extraordinary business that had not presented themselves to the youth, and he now proceeded to impress them upon him. In the first place, the cunning Tozer would make sure of protecting himself and Motoza, though the last was purely a matter of policy and self interest, since he was always ready to sacrifice a comrade. In arranging the ransom or exchange, Tozer would take no chances. The friends of Fred Greenwood would have to remain out of sight and in the background. It would be impossible for any of them to try to checkmate him without his quickly learning it, whereupon he would abandon the job and turn over the boy to the savage will of the Sioux.

"And you know what that means," added the cowman, impressively. "I should tell you something else, too. It's my belief that if the money is give to Tozer, and the Sioux is ordered to surrender the younker, he hates him that bad that he'll try to bring about his death and run the chances of hanging for it. Where two such wretches as him and Tozer are in a job there's bound to be crooked work, and I won't never believe you're going to shake the hand of t'other younker till I see it done with my own eyes."

The emphasis of this declaration sent a thrill of alarm through the frame of Jack Dudley, though it could not wholly destroy the exhilaration caused by the knowledge that Fred Greenwood was alive.