t deal of their success was due
to their ability to cover long distances between daylight and dawn or
sunrise and sunset, appearing in localities where they were not in
the least expected. In this way they had been enabled to make many
important captures. But the riders did not move so rapidly in this
instance that they were not able to poke fun at the fat boy. Stacy
was the butt of almost every joke.

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

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

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

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

"I---I fell off."

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

"I---I don't know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All at once the eyes of the fat boy lighted up. Something struc