m, as they generally
do, I can't make out. The Yaquis don't ordinarily use those methods."

"Unless they took my cousins to hold for ransom," suggested Bud.

"Well, of course that's possible, but I didn't know the Yaquis were
that smart," answered Rolling Stone. "Still, some new leader may have
gotten together a band, or it may be some half breed, or even some
renegade American is at the bottom of this. I can understand a chap
like that holding prisoners for ransom.

"But what I started to say was that once the first wild outburst is
over, the Yaquis will keep mighty quiet. They won't go about with a
brass band, advertising their hiding places."

"You mean it won't be easy to find them?" asked Nort.

"That's it, son. They're going to be mighty cute and foxy, and while a
Yaqui isn't in it with our old time American Indians in the matter of
covering a trail, still we aren't going to have any walkover. We've
got our work cut out for us."

"I believe you!" shouted Yellin' Kid. "But we'll get the devils sooner
or later."

"The sooner the better," said Rolling Stone quietly, and there was in
his very quietness a menace which the boys understood very well. Every
hour that Rosemary and Floyd remained in the hands of the Yaquis meant
an ever increasing danger. And once the mad frenzy of the Indians wore
off and they began to realize what they had done, anticipating the
consequences once they were captured with the prisoners in their
possession, there was hardly a question of what they would do to
Rosemary and Floyd. The captives would be killed to get them out of
the way.

It was this that urged the rescue party ahead with all the speed
possible, and consistent with preserving their horses' power to travel.

In spite of wounds, and some were seriously hurt (one dying later)
there was no sign of gloom in the midst of the party of which the boy
ranchers formed an important element. Some of the cowboys sang, and
Yellin' Kid intoned another verse or two of the many songs with which
he seemed plentifully provided.

Coming to a deep ravine, along which the trail led into the mountains,
where it was reported the Yaquis had headed, Snake Purdee called a halt.

"What's the matter now?" asked Rolling Stone.

"Do you see anything?" asked Bud, for he noticed the veteran cowboy
looking down into the black depths.

"No," answered Snake slowly, "but it strikes me this is a good place to
get rid of the saddles and tru