Fremont did not seem to notice the signal, which was one the members
of the Black Bear Patrol had long practiced both in the forest and in
their club room, but his eyes were for an instant lifted toward the
hiding place occupied by the three boys.

"He's next," whispered Fenton.

"I should say so," grunted Frank. "I guess he'd know a Black Bear
signal anywhere. We didn't learn that call by any correspondence
school method. It is the genuine thing. We got it by dodging the
keepers and stirring up the black bears at Central Park."

The outlaws were now making timid runs out toward the point from which
the sound had come, and the boys thought best to drop back a short
distance, still keeping Fremont in sight, however. Directly the
outlaws assembled again and stood talking in the villainous lingo
which they had used before. It was evident that they were not a
little alarmed at the thought of a wild animal being so close to them.

"They'll think there's more than one Black Bear after them," Shaw
whispered as the men turned down the eastern slope and again moved
toward the desert-like plain which lay between the mountains and the
river.

"There's a Wolf after them, too," grinned Jimmie. "If I had some of
the Wolves I left in New York we'd eat 'em alive," he added. "I'm
hungry enough to eat that big lobster at three bites."

As the boy ceased speaking a pebble struck him on the top of the head,
and the whine of a wolf reached his ears. There was silence for a
moment, and then the sharp, vicious, canine-like snap of a wolf on
scent was heard.

"I reckon all the Wolves in the world are not in New York," Shaw said.
"That was a patrol signal, Jimmie. Go out and find your chum."

"It's Nestor!" almost shouted the boy, and Nestor it was, climbing
laughingly toward the astonished group.

"Get down! Get down," warned Frank. "You'll give us all away."

Nestor pointed to the ridge, from which the outlaws had now
disappeared, and threw himself down by the side of the boys.

"Did you bring anything to eat?" demanded Frank, rubbing his stomach.

"Where are the secret service men?" asked Fenton.

"This looks like a Boy Scout convention," Jimmie put in. "Where did you
come from, and why didn't the guards come with you?"

In a few words Nestor explained the situation. He had left the secret
service men to convey the prisoners to El Paso, and had entered alone
upon a search for his friends. In a short