ticular log was placed
convenient to the fire.

"You look rather rumpled and pale, Jo," grinned Jim. "Did a hoot owl
scare you while we were gone?"

"I bet Jo was hiding in the tent," jeered Tom, "with his head in the
blankets."

Jo looked kind of sheepish and very red in the face. It was evident
that he was struggling with some hidden emotion. Jim started to sit
down upon the convenient log, and Tom likewise, the latter growling:

"You always try to get the best of everything."

Then they sat down upon the supposed log. To their utter surprise and
ultimate horror, the log began to twist and turn.

"Whoopee!" yelled Tom, leaping six feet, it seemed, into the air,
"it's a snake!" Jim rose more slowly, but very pale. He was deeply
moved, not to say frightened. "Sancte Maria, Sancte Sebastina!" seemed
the words issuing from the muffled folds of the blanket. Jim tore it
off and there was the Mexican whom Jo had had the round-up with.

"What!" cried Jim; "who is this?" Jeems' head was now looking between
the flaps of the tent, into which he had dived headfirst when the log
came to life.

"It's one of the gang that has been trailing us," cried Jeems.

Jo was rolling around in paroxysms of laughter.

"Whoopee!" he cried in imitation of brother Tom, "it's a snake," then
he went off into another fit.

"You durned idiot," yelled the incensed Tom, "shut up laughing. I
guess that fellow is a snake. You might have scared me into breaking
a blood vessel."

"I came near scaring you into breaking the record for the high jump,"
panted Jo, weak from laughter.

"But where did you capture this specimen, Jo?" asked Jim with a quiet
smile. To tell the truth he was somewhat chagrined, for he could not
deny even to himself that he had been badly frightened by Jo's trick.

"Look a here, boys," cried Jeems, "here is where a knife has gone
clean through the corner of this tent."

"Sure enough," agreed Jim, examining the cut in the canvas.

"Here's the weapon," said Juarez, who was quick to follow up a trail
of any kind. He brought the dagger to the firelight, and they looked
at it with interest. It had a very keen blade, sharp-pointed and two
edged. The handle was richly engraved and of silver.

"How is this, Jo?" inquired Jim. "Tell us the whole story even if it
implicates your friend here, the human log." There was a grim quality
in Jim's voice which made the Mexican roll his eyes viciously.

CHAPTER XXI

THE GREA