ck.

"What's that square of light down there?" he asked.

"Probably the camp we are bound for," was the reply.

"Then we've made better time down here than that lobster of an
Englishman did," the boy exclaimed. "It took him most of the afternoon
to climb down the hills, and we've been only about two hours on the
way."

"It seems that we came by a much shorter and easier route," Nestor
replied. "Where the other party was obliged to wind around precipices
and crags, we made our way along the beds of what was once a succession
of streams, cutting the side of the mountain into canyons. Wait here,
boys," he added, "until I go down there and see what the situation is."

"Just you hold on until I let Fremont know we are coming!" Jimmie said,
and the next moment the wolf-cry which Fremont had first heard rang out.

"Sounds like a wet wolf!" declared Frank.

"I know of a Black Bear that ain't any dryer!" replied Jimmie.

Nestor reached the level space in front of the west window of the hut
just as the guard left the corner in the interest of a little warmth.
The steady fall of the rain and the swish of the wind drowned any
noises he made, and so he crept up to the wall of the structure without
fear of discovery.

During the talk between the renegade and Fremont the patrol leader
crouched under the window, listening. He heard the inquiries
concerning Fremont's early connection with Mr. Cameron with surprise.
Who was this man, he asked himself, who knew so much of Fremont's early
life? What motive could he have in seeking to learn more about it than
he already knew?

Unable to solve the problem, and realizing that the time for prompt
action had come, he retreated from the window and with a low whistle
summoned the boys to his side. As they joined him, led on by the
irrepressible Jimmie, the boys gave the wolf call again.

"Just to let the kid know we're comin'!" Jimmie explained.

Then, while the boys stood considering the course to pursue, the square
of light was cut by a figure standing between the flame and the window
space. The watchers could not, of course, see the face which was
looking out on the stormy night, but they knew that it was Fremont who
stood there.

"There's no one in the room with him but that big lobster," Jimmie
whispered, "and there's no one watching outside! If I were in his place
I'd take a dive into the night! You bet I would."

"Perhaps he will," Nestor replied. "It would be a go