e boy's surprise and
wonder, a coil of rope. He examined this, and found a stout clasp-hook
at one end. The other end of the rope was made fast to a rafter.

For some time Frank wondered to what use old Cade had put the rope, but
it came to him at last.

"With this he drew his water from the stream down there."

This seemed evident, as there was no other apparent means of procuring
water.

The outlaws slept heavily, apparently fatigued by their exertions of the
night. They had left sentinels in both directions, up and down the
canyon, so that they could not be taken by surprise should they be
followed by enemies.

The sun had not risen when Frank went forth into the morning air.

The horses were tethered near the cabin, and a half-blood Indian was
watching them. As Frank approached, the half-blood peered out from
beneath the blanket, which was drawn up over his head. The boy saw the
fellow's beady eyes regarding him, and then the blanket was drawn
closer, indicating that the Indian was satisfied.

Once more Frank thought that he must be the perfect counterpart of Black
Harry, else he would arouse the suspicion of the fellow who owned those
eyes.

Frank believed it would be an easy thing to mount one of the horses and
ride away, as if he was going a short distance. He believed he could do
so without being challenged or questioned, and the desire to attempt it
was almost ungovernable.

Then came another thought.

Where could he go?

Surely he could not return to Elreno, for, now that he had been carried
away by Black Harry's Braves, he was branded in that town as the
youthful outlaw beyond the shadow of a doubt.

He did not know which way to turn, and the thought that his situation
was most remarkable forced itself upon him. If he remained among the
outlaws, they were liable to discover how they had been fooled, and that
would make them furious. If he escaped and hastened to any of the
nearby towns, it was pretty certain that he would be taken for Black
Harry and lynched.

"This is a real jolly scrape!" thought the boy, ruefully. "What can I
do?"

Well might he ask himself the question.

He walked a short distance down the canyon, and thought it over. The
impulse was on him to get away as soon as possible, but his sober
judgment told him that he would leap from the frying-pan into the fire.

Frank did not care to be lynched. He seemed helpless for the time.
Although he longed to fight for his honor,