it to beat a band. Beat it for keeps. Rattle off a charge, and make a
noise like a regiment of cavalry. And if you can't make good time
climbing down, slip on a rock an' roll down. Somethin' must be done
quick!"

"I don't believe they will shoot him," the drummer said, tentatively,
hesitating for an instant.

"If that big lobster gives the order to do it," Jimmie said, his eyes
flashing, "I'll get him before the order can be obeyed. They may get
me after that, but I'll have the satisfaction of knowin' that I got to
him first. Now, run!"

The dawn was strong in the east when the drummer disappeared down the
side of the mountain. It had been an eventful night, a long one to the
boy standing there watching for an opportunity of making his presence
known to the prisoner. There was a deal of talking going on in the
group about the prisoner, but Jimmie could catch only part of what was
said.

The soldiers--if the ragged, sullen-looking natives might so be
termed--talked fast and in a villainous tongue which did not seem to be
Spanish. They appeared to be greatly excited, and it was only when the
heavy voice of the leader boomed forth that they reverted to silence.

Jimmie could not understand what the prisoner had been brought there
for. If the idea of his captors was to restore him to his friends,
that would be the work of only a minute. They would only have to cut
the bonds and Fremont would do the rest. If the idea was to murder
him, why the delay? It had been hours since his capture, and it would
have taken only a minute to discover that the wrong boy had been taken.

If, as Jimmie considered gravely, the big man should prove to be a
civil officer from Texas, a a man with a warrant for Fremont, then it
seemed that he would be getting him across the border as quickly as
possible, taking no chances with slow Mexican criminal procedure. This
last view of the case was the one which Jimmie feared most. He might be
able to get his friend away from Mexican bandits, but not from a Texas
sheriff.

The next words of the leader settled every doubt on the question the
boy was puzzling over. Although they showed that Fremont was in
immediate peril of his life, the watcher was in a measure relieved at
the knowledge they brought him. So long as Fremont was held a prisoner
by those who were breaking and not enforcing the law in doing so, there
was hope of rescue.

"Nestor," the Englishman said, thrusting his bewhi