shrilly.

"Senor Juarez very nervous. I just stretch and whistle a little and he
want to shoot."

A peculiar smile came over Juarez's face, but he said nothing. All the
stolid Indian in his nature came to the surface. He merely grunted
contemptuously at the Mexican's remark and this made the volatile Manuel
uneasy in his turn, for he wanted to realize that his malice had struck
home, but Juarez did not give him that satisfaction. There was a sort of
hidden duel between these two, the subtle Mexican and the crafty Indian
nature of Juarez. It remained to be seen who would win.

The four Frontier Boys went silently along down the dark canyon, each
one occupied with his own thoughts and the ill-omened Mexican guide in
the lead. Juarez kept a sharp lookout on either side of the trail
expecting an ambush. His horse seemed to feel something of the strain
his rider was under, as a horse will. Once he shied at something he saw
in a clump of bushes, and nearly went off the trail. It was only with
the aid of Juarez's horsemanship that he clawed his way back to safety.
The Mexican was much amused at this incident, and Jim gave him a sharp
call down.

CHAPTER VII

FARMER BROOM

We must now return to Captain Broom and his escort, whom we left sitting
on a hill covered with trees near the Sebastian rancho. Old Pete's story
had been interrupted by the skipper's warning,--"Somebody is coming our
way."

There was no question about that, they could hear the someone coming
towards the hill whistling cheerfully. Then the form of a man could be
seen, coming up the slope of the elevation.

"I wonder where those altogether blessed cows are," he was heard saying
in Spanish, but of course, this is a free and not a literal translation.

"They are generally hiding under these trees," he continued. The sailors
kept absolutely still and old Pete covered the bowl of his pipe with his
hand so that its light might not discover them.

"Carambe!" cried the Mexican as he stopped about three feet from the
recumbent Captain, "I fear my good master's cows have been smoking, not
like nice Mexican cows, a cigarette, but a pipe like a vile gringo.
Come, get up, you black brute," noticing the big bulk of the Captain for
the first time, and he hauled off and gave the skipper a hearty kick on
the haunch.

Never was there a more surprised greaser in the whole ungainly length of
California for this apparently gentle cow that he kicked, (not for