night," announced Hippy. He
then promptly distributed his force, taking the lead in the
arrangements, which Grace was now glad to have him do. Then again, she
understood full well that Lieutenant Wingate himself was eager to even
up old scores with the men who had handled him so roughly.

Each girl, armed with a rifle, took the position assigned to her, and
there was no more conversation for the next two hours, no sound other
than that from the insect life and the occasional whinney of a pony. The
minds of the Overlanders, however, were active. They were pondering over
these persistent attacks on them, and Grace, for one, became finally
convinced that Lieutenant Wingate was not overstating when he declared
that there was a price on his head. She was inclined to think, too, that
the same condition applied to all members of the Overland party.

As for Washington, none of them believed that the mountaineers could
have any possible motive for harming him, unless, perhaps, it were
necessary to do so for their own protection. That, the girls realized,
was a grave possibility, especially were the men to see that he
recognized any of them.

There was worry on the minds of the Overlanders, and the hours of their
vigil seemed to drag out interminably. It was not until morning,
however, that anything occurred to disturb them or even rouse them from
their endless listening and peering into the darkness with straining
eyes and bated breaths. Therefore, the interruption that followed the
long, tense silence came as a shock, an interruption that startled each
member of the party into a new and throbbing alertness.

CHAPTER XI

"A MARKED MAN"

The first indication that something was approaching the opposite side of
the camp was made known by the sudden restlessness of the ponies, which
sprang up and gave every indication of fright.

The action of the ponies was followed by a floundering and crashing out
there in the bushes as if a large animal were tearing its way through
them.

"Hold your fire!" directed Lieutenant Wingate in a low voice. "It may be
that one of the ponies has broken loose."

No one answered, but every rifle was held at ready.

"There it comes! It's a man," cried Nora, as a figure burst into view
from the bushes.

"Doan shoot! Doan shoot! It am Wash," howled Washington Washington, then
tripping on a vine, he fell flat on his face. "It kotched me! It kotched
me!" he bellowed, springing up ready to