at. At first Fremont thought of
following him, but he was very tired and sleepy and so gave it up.

He crept back into a tent and threw himself down on a blanket, closing
his eyes only for a moment, as he thought.

Jimmie pressed on down the slope for some distance without discovering
the source of the disturbance, then turned back. When, near the tents,
he turned and looked over the valley, a torch far below was spelling
out "O.K."

"There are a lot of Americans mixed up in this," the boy thought.
"I've heard that this revolt was being financed and executed by our
people, but I did not believe the story. Anyhow, they are giving their
signals in United states."

As the lad approached nearer to the tents the silence which held the
little dent on the slope sent a vague shiver of alarm through his veins.

When he came to the tents there was no one in sight. He whistled
softly, but there was no reply. The moon, now peeping around a
shoulder of the mountain, struck an object which glistened like silver,
and the boy picked it up. It was Fremont's revolver, and the chambers
were full. There had been no shooting. Fremont's cap lay on the
ground not far from where the weapon had been found.

Filled with apprehension, Jimmie dashed into the tents. They were both
empty. The boy had disappeared, leaving his weapon and his cap behind.
It was plain to be seen, from marks on the rocks and the thin soil of
the dent, that there had been a struggle.

Alarmed beyond the power of words to express, Jimmie crept into the
hiding place they had used earlier in the evening and waited. He was
angry at Nestor for going away, and angry with himself for leaving
Fremont alone. While the latter possessed courage and strength, he was
not as apt in such things as they were facing as his companions. He
had been sheltered for years in the Cameron home, and was not so
resourceful as his companions, not so ready to take advantage of any
point which might occur in such a rough-and-tumble game as was now in
progress.

Jimmie's fear was that Fremont had been captured by officers, and would
be taken back to New York and thrust into the Tombs to await the action
of the grand jury, based on the recovery or death of Mr. Cameron. This
would be fatal to all his hopes. While the boy pondered and fretted
over the matter, the long roll of a drum came around a cliff-corner,
and then a file of ragged soldiers, or what seemed to be such, showed
in