ness answered the whistle, imitating it as
nearly as possible. But he made a mistake. That whistle was not
the right whistle.

Bang!

A flash of flame leaped toward him and he heard the "wo-o-o-o" of a
bullet over his head. The boy was off his pony. Then Tad tried the
tactics of an Indian. Quickly and silently tethering his pony, he
fired a shot high enough so that he did not think it likely to hit
any one. Skulking a few paces farther on, he fired again. Several
shots were in this manner fired, and in quick succession, giving the
impression that there were several men shooting.

Half a dozen answering shots were fired at him, then the lad caught
the sound of hoofbeats. He knew the other man was riding away. Tad
gave the hoot of an owl as best he could. Rather to his surprise the
signal was answered off to the left. Tad repeated it and received the
same answer. He rode forward, on the trail of the fleeing man. In a
few minutes he was joined by Captain McKay and Stacy, both riding hard.

"Did you draw them out?" demanded the captain sharply, but without a
trace of excitement in his tone.

"Yes." Tad explained what had occurred.

"That was one of the outposts. The others will begin to stir soon.
We are too early. All the ruffians are not in yet. Well, it's too
late now. The alarm has been given. There they go!"

A succession of shots followed from distant points, widely separated.
McKay listened.

"Our men are shooting. It's time to close in. Stick behind me. Don't
try to ride off to one side. Keep your eyes and ears open."

The ponies leaped forward. The man and the two boys were riding a
dangerous pace considering the roughness of the trail, but none gave
a thought to the danger. The captain's voice was raised in a
long-drawn hoot, which was answered by another from some distance away.
Then the firing broke out afresh. It seemed as if no one could escape
that fusillade of bullets. Tad could hear the bullets screaming
overhead. He sat his pony, his eyes glowing, firing rapidly into the
air. Stacy Brown also sat his own pony, but he couldn't have moved a
muscle to save him. The fat boy was literally "scared stiff." Stacy
really was suffering, but no one, unless he had observed his eyes,
would have thought him afraid.

"Close in, boys. Ride and shout!" commanded the captain.

Butler exercised his lungs. Chunky's lips moved, but no sound came
from them. His pony, however, follo