know that Ned was in partnership with
the United States army. What is it all about?"

"You'll have to ask Ned," was the unsatisfactory reply. "He has been
keeping the wires to Washington hot ever since he left New York, and
these men were sent here at his request. There's something doing here,
but I don't know what it is."

"I thought they were here to arrest Fremont," said Jimmie. "If I had
known who they were, I wouldn't have lied about the boy. I said his
name was Smith."

"Oh, it is George Fremont, is it?" asked the drummer. "That is the boy
wanted for robbery and attempted murder in New York. Did Nestor bring
him here?"

"Yes," was the reply. "He wanted to keep him away from the officers
until the truth is known. Now he's gone and left us, and Fremont has
been captured."

"Perhaps United States officers captured him," suggested the drummer.
"If so, he is now on his way back to New York. I'm sorry."

"I don't believe civil officers got in here," said Jimmie. "When the
secret service men come back, I'm goin' to ask them to help find him. I
recon, now, that the Greasers caught him. I hope so, that is, I would
rather they would have him than the others. We may get him away from
the Greasers, but we couldn't get him away from officers."

A new view of the incident was now presented by one of the secret
service men, who began questioning Jimmie about the boy he had called
Smith. The boy thought best to tell him the truth, and did so.

"It may be all right," the secret service man said, after hearing the
story. "It strikes me that the Greasers mistook Fremont for Nestor.
In that case, they may release him as soon as they discover their
mistake."

"Don't you ever think that," the other man cut in. "They are more
likely to stand him up against a wall and shoot him. When the
lieutenant comes back we'll see what can be done about it."

"But why should the Greasers want to capture Ned Nestor?" demanded
Jimmie. "You said they might have mistaken Fremont for Ned."

"I can imagine that the man responsible for this gathering is
interested in papers Nestor has," was the reply.

Jimmie and the drummer were now advised to get what sleep they could,
the guards explaining that they were "expecting company," and that the
talking might frighten the prospective callers away.

It was now nearing midnight, and Jimmie tried hard to lose himself in
sleep, but, tired as he was, this seemed to be impossible.