em things down here but an American,"
went on Pete, as if he had been in a reverie all this time, "and if it
is a Yankee, it means that maybe we are out of our difficulties."

"Well, what shall we do?" demanded Jack. "Meet it, or take to the
woods?"

As he spoke, from far behind them came the sound of shots and shouts.
That settled it.

"We'll take a chance, and meet them," declared Pete, riding forward.

Followed by the others, he deployed across the road, and an instant
later the bright glare of the car's headlights enveloped them. From
the vehicle, there came a sharp hail as the driver ground down the
brakes.

"Say, you fellows, can you direct us to the camp?"

"They're nothing but a bunch of greasers," came another voice from
behind the lights; "drive ahead, Jim."

"Hold on thar, Buck," hailed Coyote Pete. "I'd like ter hev a word
with you."

"Say, are you chaps Americans?" demanded an astonished voice.

"Reckon so," hailed back Pete dryly, "that's what my ma said. Who air
you, anyhow?"

"I am Big Buck Bradley, manager, owner and sole proprietor of Buck
Bradley's Unparalleled Monst-er-ous and Unsurpassed Wild West Show and
Congress of Cowboys," came back the answer. "Who are you?"

"Well, I reckon jes' at present we're in danger of being made a Wild
West Show of, ourselves," drawled Pete. "But are you really Buck
Bradley himself?"

"I was, at dinner-time," was the response.

"Hoorah!" yelled Pete. "It ain't possible, is it, Buck, thet you've
forgot Mister Peter de Peyster?"

"What, Coyote Pete?"

"That's me!"

"Waal, you thundering old coyote, what air you doin' here?"

"Gittin' chased by a bunch of the toughest insurrectos you ever clapped
eyes on, and it's up ter you ter help us out," responded Pete. He
looked back, and motioned to the others, who had listened in
astonishment to this dialogue. "Come on, boys, and git interduced;
there ain't much time fer ettiquette."

"Yee-ow-w-w-w-w!" came a yell behind them.

"What's that?" exclaimed Buck, who, as the boys could now see, was a
big, red-faced chap, clad in a linen auto-duster, combined with which
his sombrero, with its beaded band, looked odd.

"Why, that's an invitation ter us ter stop," rejoined Pete.

Rapidly he explained the case, and Buck began to roar and bellow
angrily, as was his wont.

"Waal, what d'yer think uv that? The derned greasers! And I was on my
way ter give 'em some free tickets. We show down in the vil