cter occupied prominent places on the walls of
the room, and between them hung numerous relics the boys had collected
during their journey across the prairie, and a few trophies of their
skill as hunters. Over the door were the antlers of the first and only
elk they had killed, and upon them hung a string of grizzly bear's
claws, which had once been worn as a necklace by an Indian chief, and
also a bow, a quiver full of arrows, a stone tomahawk, and a
scalping-knife--all of which had been presented to them by Captain
Porter. At the head of the bed were two pairs of deer's horns fastened
to the wall, and supporting their rifles, bullet-pouches, powder-horns,
and hunting-knives.

These articles were all highly prized by the boys; but, upon a nail
driven into the wall beside the book-case, hung something that, next to
his horse and dog, held the most exalted place in Frank's estimation. It
was the remnant of the first lasso he had ever owned. He thought more of
it than of any other article he possessed, and he would have surrendered
every thing, except Roderick and Marmion, before he would have parted
with that piece of a rawhide rope. It had once saved his uncle's life;
and, more than that, Frank himself had been hanged with it. Yes, as
improbable as it may seem, one end of that lasso had been placed around
his neck, the other thrown over the hook which supported one of his
large pictures, and Frank had been drawn up until his toes only rested
on the floor; and all because he refused to tell where he had hidden a
key. Where the rest of the lasso was he did not know. The last time he
saw it, it was around the neck of a man who was running through the
grove at the top of his speed, with Marmion close at his heels. The dog
came back, but the man and the piece of lasso did not; and this brings
us to our story.

CHAPTER III.

TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

One day, about six weeks before the commencement of our story, Frank and
Archie were sent to San Diego on business for Uncle James. When they
returned, they found a new face among the Rancheros--that of Pierre
Costello, a man for whom Frank at once conceived a violent dislike.
Pierre was a full-blooded Mexican, dark-browed, morose, and
sinister-looking, and he had a pair of small, black eyes that were never
still, but constantly roving about, as if on the lookout for something.
His appearance was certainly forbidding; but that was not the reason why
Frank disliked hi