rthur.

"Well, now, that's no concern of yours," replied the man. "Who are you?"
As he spoke, he drew a revolver from his sash, and rested it on the rock
beside him, the muzzle pointing straight at the boy's head.

"Don't!" cried Arthur, turning pale, and stepping back. "I am Arthur
Vane, and I have come here to have a talk with you. Here is Joaquin's
knife, which will prove that I am all right."

The man returned his revolver to his belt, and came down the cliff; and,
presently, Arthur found himself standing face to face with a live
robber.

"I am Pierre Costello," said the latter; "and I was waiting for you."

CHAPTER XII.

OFF FOR THE MOUNTAINS.

Arthur looked at the robber with curiosity. Yellow-covered novels had
always been his favorite reading, and highwaymen, brigands, and pirates
were, in his estimation, the only heroes worthy of emulation. Pierre,
but for one thing, would have come up to his beau ideal of a robber. He
was loaded with weapons, and he was tall and broad-shouldered, sported a
ferocious mustache, and his hair fell down upon his shoulders. He was
dressed in the gayest Mexican style, but his clothing had seen long
service, and was not quite as neat as Arthur would have liked to have
seen it. It was plain that Pierre did not waste much time upon his
toilet; but, after all, he was a very good-looking villain.

The robber was quite as much interested in his visitor as the latter was
in him. He had often heard of Arthur through Joaquin; and, if the boy
had known all Pierre's intentions concerning him, he might not have felt
quite so much at his ease.

"I can't spare much time," said the robber, breaking the silence at
last.

"Nor I either," returned Arthur; "so I will begin my business at once,
and get through as soon as I can. I have heard the particulars of your
fights with Frank Nelson, and I propose to put you in the way of making
five times the amount of money you would have made if you had captured
him when you met him in the mountains. I want to be revenged upon Frank
and his crowd, for they have grossly insulted me."

"Of course they have," said Pierre. "I know all about it."

"I can't punish them by myself," continued Arthur, "for they are three
to my one. I am not afraid of Johnny Harris, or Archie Winters; but
there's that other Yankee, Frank Nelson. He is as strong as a lion, and
if he once gets his blood up, he don't care for any thing. I am afraid
of him."

"I don'