Mystery of Deep Gulch.
Comrades in New York, or Snaring the Smugglers.
Comrades on the Ranch, or Secret of the Lost River.
Comrades in New Mexico, or the Round-up.
Comrades on the Great Divide (in preparation).

_Ralph Victor is probably the best equipped writer of
up-to-date boy's stories of the present day. He has traveled
or lived in every land, has shot big game with Sears in
India, has voyaged with Jack London, and was a war
correspondent in Natal and Japan. The lure of life in the
open has always been his, and his experiences have been
thrilling and many._

--_"Progress."_

CHATTERTON-PECK CO.
NEW YORK

_Specimen Chapter from_

COMRADES IN NEW MEXICO

BY RALPH VICTOR.

_Published by Chatterton Peck Co._

"We will ride part of the way with you," suggested Fleet, "and see you
safe on the road."

"If you are going," advised the major, "the sooner you get away the
better."

"Then I am going to get off at once," announced Chot.

It was but a few moments before the horses were saddled and the little
cavalcade started. After accompanying him for some half dozen miles
the others bade Chot "adios" and returned to the ranch.

It was still early evening for the days were now very long, when Chot
arrived at El Perro Negro, but unlike the other to be remembered
evening there were but few persons about and these few paid no
attention to him. He attended to his horse and as the supper hour was
already over he asked the landlord to get him something to eat. The
inner man satisfied he was off early to bed.

The night passed without any disturbance although he slept as Fleet
would express it "with one eye awake" and with the coming of daylight
he was astir. He fed his horse and gave him a rub down preparatory to
an early start.

On his way to the shed that morning, he noticed several men whom he
had not before seen. Among them he observed the outlaws Jose and
Miguel. He paid no attention to them however until they came up beside
him. He was engaged in currying his horse.

"That is a good beast you have there," said Miguel. "Cuanto? How much
for him?"

"Good morning," responded Chot, and continued, "He isn't for sale."

"Your horse?" went on the man.

"No," said Chot, shortly. "He isn't mine."

"Where do you come from?" asked Miguel.

"I came from Captain Benson's," said Chot, guardedly, thinking it wise
not to speak of Rosado.

"Isn't that Mr. Shel