as, Bow. Them's the very words you used. Says you:
'Baldy's in trouble,' says you. And then we come on the run."

"And we calculated we'd find the young ladies, and the rest of the
outfit here, too," went on Bow. "When they didn't come back to the ranch
last night we was all alarmed, and went off to the place they were
goin' to make pictures. But there wasn't a sign of any trail there, and
we didn't know what to think. We never dreamed you'd be on the _mesa_,"
he added to Mr. DeVere.

"I suppose we never should have come," admitted the actor. "It was on a
sudden impulse, and sorry enough we were for it, too."

"Oh, but it all came out right," said Alice, trying to make herself look
a little more presentable, for a night and more than a day spent as a
prisoner in a little hut was not conducive to neatness of attire.

"And Russ got some fine pictures of the ceremonies," added Ruth.

"That's good!" cried Pete Batso. "When we started for here your manager
said he reckoned his operator would have made good use of his time."

"We didn't know just what shape you was in," said Buster Jones, "only
Baldy's message didn't say any of you was killed, so we hoped for the
best."

"Yes, it might have been worse," agreed Baldy. "Well, now, let's travel.
Did you have any trouble gettin' past their guard line, boys?" he asked.

"Nary a trouble," replied Pete. "We just rushed through before they knew
what was up."

The captives were soon in the saddle again, and escorted by the cowboys
made for the trail down to the plain. There were more angry mutterings
from the Indians, but they made no effort to stop the retreat. Perhaps
they realized it would be useless.

It was no easy matter descending the steep trail, but it was
accomplished without mishap, and finally Rocky Ranch was reached. And it
is needless to say that the captives were made welcome.

A little later, in clean garments, and after a good meal, they told of
their adventures. The girls were quite the heroines of the hour, and
held the center of the stage, rather to the discomfiture of Miss
Pennington and Miss Dixon, who were in the habit of attracting all the
attention they could.

"There's one picture I want very much to get," said Mr. Pertell, as he
sat with his players in the living room of their quarters one evening.

"Name it," declared Mr. Norton, the owner, "and, if it's possible, I'll
see that you get it."

"A cattle stampede," was the answer. "I want to sh