uired Jim gravely.

"Something wrong around here," he said.

"Panther, painter, or mountain lion?" inquired Tom.

"Look out, he will bite you," volunteered Jo.

Shaking his head, Juarez mounted his horse and took his place in line,
and the procession started again, but always the red-faced, red-necked
scout kept them in view for his own purposes. He did not have much
trouble to keep up, for the boys did not hurry their horses. They had
had a hard pull for several hours that morning, and Jim decided it was
best to let them take it easy, as there still was plenty of hard work
ahead.

"How soon will we reach your ancient castle, Jeems?" inquired Jim.

"In time for dinner, boss, I reckon," replied Jeems.

"Dinner be ready for us?" inquired Tom hungrily.

"Well, as I haven't seen my ancestral walls for nigh on to twenty
years," replied Jeems, "I'm much afeard that the dinner is petrified
by this time."

"We don't mind that," laughed Jo. "Haven't we eaten grub in Mexican
restaurants and along the border? Nothing is too tough for us."

"That's so," agreed the chorus.

"This country begins to look very familiar," soliloquized Jeems.
"Here's a rock I've sat on many a time to rest coming home from a
hunt, and down there are the three pines struck by lightning, on the
Fourth of July, too----"

"Go on with you," jeered Tom, "don't give us any tall yarn like that."

"Halt! there he goes!" cried Juarez, bringing his rifle to his
shoulder and aiming it at a fleeting shadow among the pines down the
mountain slope. He did not fire, however, and without a minute's
hesitation the boys turned their horses down the steep mountain slope
towards the woods where the man had been detected by Juarez's
observant eye.

Away they went full tilt, and to an outsider it seemed certain that
some one was sure to get his neck broken. Jo's horse did stumble,
plowing its nose into the gravel, and sending Jo forward about a dozen
feet, landing on shoulder and neck. Pretty well shaken up, he was too,
but not injured.

Tom came near getting mixed up in the melee, for he was just back of
Jo, but missed him more by good luck than good management. There was
no attempt on the part of any of the boys to stop to pick up Jo or to
see how badly hurt he was. They presumed that if injured he would say
something about it. So on went the gallant 400, their steeds leaping
rocks and fallen trees, crashing through brush with powerful
recklessness.

A h