er, seemed to know
just where to find the moving picture company, for he kept right on
into the ravine.

"I reckon this is about where you saw the Indians and the camera men,
Son?" the ranchman said to Russ.

"Yes, sir," said Russ. "But Rose left me right on this hill. I thought
she went back----"

"I didn't notice any place where she left the trail," interposed Cowboy
Jack. "But I reckon Black Bear can find where she went. You have to hand
it to those Injuns. They can see trailmarks that a white man wouldn't
notice. And going to college didn't spoil Black Bear for a
trail-hunter."

"He is quite a wonderful young man," Daddy Bunker said.

But Russ was only thinking about his sister. He wondered where she could
have gone and what had happened to her. Pinky's coming back to the ranch
alone made Russ believe that something very terrible had happened to his
sister.

He urged his pinto pony on after the ranchman and daddy, however, and
they all entered the ravine. It was a very wild place--just the sort of
place, Russ thought, where savage Indians might have lain in wait for
unfortunate white people. He was very glad that Black Bear's people were
quite tame. At least, they could not be accused of having run away with
Rose.

In a few minutes Cowboy Jack had led them up through the ravine and out
upon what he called a mesa. There were patches of woods, plenty of grass
that was not much frost-bitten, and a big spring near which a number of
ponies were picketed. There was a traveling kitchen, such as the Army
used in the World War. Men in white caps and jackets were very busy
about the kitchen helping the moving picture company to hot food.

And the actors and Indians were all squatting very pleasantly side by
side eating and talking. The Indians wore their war-paint, but they had
drawn on their shirts or else had blankets around their shoulders. Russ
saw Black Bear almost at once. He stood talking with some of the white
men--notably with the one who was the commander of the soldiers, the man
with the plume in his hat.

But it seemed that a little man sitting on a campchair off to one side
and talking to a man who had a lot of papers in his hands was the most
important person in view. It was to this man that Cowboy Jack led the
way.

"That is Mr. Habback, the director," Russ heard the ranchman tell daddy.
"We must get him to let us have Black Bear, or somebody."

The next moment he hailed the moving picture direct