second before. Jo's pistol was
in the tent on a box, but his hand, as he dropped, touched a stone.
The reader perhaps remembers what an accurate shot Jo was with a ball
or rock. If his memory goes back far enough he will recall what Jo did
to the Apache when he was trying to sneak up on the boys' fort in New
Mexico.

As soon as the Mexican saw that he had missed his aim, he started
to run. Jo saw his dark form a few feet away and hurled the rock,
striking him behind the left shoulder and half knocking him down. Jo,
the fleet of foot, was upon him in a couple of bounds, and now a
furious struggle ensued between Jo and the Mexican. The Greaser was
strong and wiry, also very desperate. Once he had Jo nearly gone, as
he threw him to his knees, and put his weight upon his back to crush
him down.

With a quick shift Jo got to his feet again, and the struggle was
renewed. Jo finally got his man near a rock that stood up a foot and
a half above the ground. Exerting all of his lithe strength he shoved
him back so that his heels struck the rock. As the man toppled, Jo
threw his whole weight against him, and back he went with tremendous
force, striking his head against a pine tree.

This laid the Greaser out and Jo, panting heavily, dragged him into
the firelight and in a minute more had him tied securely. Then he sat
down on a rock, breathing hard, just as the voices of the returning
boys could be heard at the foot of the hill as they were bringing in
the horses. Jo said nothing, but sat quietly, knowing how surprised
the boys would be to see this new addition to the family circle.

"Didn't see any wild Injuns, did you, Jo?" It was Jim's cheery voice.

"Narry Injun," replied Jo. Just then Caliente began to act up, surging
around with his ears back and plunging to get away from Jim. Either he
saw the Mexican or suspected his presence.

"Whoa, you Tiger!" cried Jim, but he had quite a tussle with him
before he got him subdued. Even then Caliente kept snorting at
intervals, with his nostrils dilating. Then the boys came toward the
campfire from the shadow of the trees. Meanwhile Jo had thrown a
blanket over the inert form of the Mexican, and he looked like an
irregular log of wood.

Perhaps this was not a very gallant way to treat one's fallen foe,
but you are not apt to feel very kindly towards a man who has just
tried to throw a knife into your back. So Jo did not care much if he
was sat upon and used for a sofa. This par