er the horses and equipments himself.

"Ef Ferez calls fer his hawses, I don't want him ter git away with this
yar balloon an' gas generator," said the Westerner, as he saw the
articles mentioned were placed under lock and key. "Ef we should lose
them, it'd be all up with us so fur as gittin' ter ther Silver Palace is
concerned."

Frank expected to hear something from Pacheco as soon as Huejugilla el
Alto was reached, but he found no message awaiting him.

"Poor professor!" he said. "I expect he has suffered untold torments
since he was kidnaped."

"Yah," nodded Hans. "Uf Brofessor Scotch don'd peen britty sick uf dis
vild life mit Mexico, you vos a liar."

That night they were sitting outside the hotel when they heard a great
commotion at the southern end of the town.

"Vot vos dot?" gasped the Dutch boy, in alarm. "Sounds like dere vos
drouple aroundt dot logality."

"That's right," agreed Frank, feeling for his revolvers; "and it is
coming this way as fast as it can."

"Mebbe another revolution has broke out," observed Bushnell, lazily.
"Best git under kiver, an' let ther circus go by."

They could hear the clatter of horses' hoofs, the cracking of pistols,
and a mingling of wild cries.

All at once Frank Merriwell became somewhat excited.

"On my life, I believe I hear the voice of Professor Scotch!" he
shouted.

"Yah!" said Hans, "I belief I hear dot, too!"

"They may be bringin' ther professor in," said Bushnell. "Ef he's thar,
we'll take an interest in ther case, you bet yer boots!"

Into the hotel he dashed, and, in a moment, he returned with his
Winchester.

Along the street came a horseman, clinging to the back of an unsaddled
animal, closely pursued by at least twenty wild riders, some of whom
were shooting at the legs of the fleeing horse, while one was whirling a
lasso to make a cast that must bring the animal to a sudden halt.

"Ten to one, the fugitive is the professor!" shouted Frank, peering
through the dusk.

"Then, I reckon we'll hev ter chip in right hyar an' now," said
Bushnell, calmly.

He flung the Winchester to his shoulder, and a spout of fire streamed
from the muzzle in an instant.

The fellow who was whirling the lasso flung up his arm and plunged
headlong from the horse's back to the dust of the street.

"Professor! professor!" shouted Frank. "Stop--stop here!"

"Can't do it," came back the reply. "The horse won't stop!"

"Jump off--fall off--get off some way!"