a good big fire. I think it's Injuns."

"Probably the same gang that lifted our hosses!" cried Buck.

"Probably," agreed Bagsby. He sat upright and peered at us through the
dim moonlight. "Want to get after them?" he inquired.

"You bet!" said Buck emphatically, "They may have McNally, and if they
haven't, they've got our horses."

"There's six of us and we can shore make it interesting for that lot,"
agreed Yank. "Can we get to where they are?"

"I think so," said Bagsby.

We rode for another hour, slanting down the mountainside toward the
flickering fire. Every time a horse rolled a rock or broke a dried
branch it seemed to me that the mountains reverberated from end to end.
I don't believe I allowed myself to weigh over six ounces all told.
Finally we left the slope for the bottom of the valley.

"I'd rather be below their camp than above it. It's going to be hard to
get out this way," complained Bagsby, "but it's the best we can do." He
dismounted us, and we crept forward another half mile, leading our
animals.

"This is as close as I dare take the hosses," whispered Bagsby.
"Vasquez, you stay here with them," he said in Spanish, "and when I yell
twice quick and sharp, you answer so we'll know where to find you. Come
on!"

We stole forward slowly. The fire leaped and flared beneath the
widespread branches of a tree. Around it lay a half dozen or so
recumbent shapes wrapped in blankets. How many more might be lying
beyond the light circle we could not tell. Beyond them we saw dimly the
forms of dozing horses. Obeying a signal from the old trapper, we
circled the camp until we were on the same side as the animals. They
raised their heads and blew softly at us; but we lay still, and shortly
they quieted down.

"Now," breathed Bagsby, "when I give the word, fire. And each man grab a
horse by the picket rope, stampede the rest, and hustle back to Vasquez.
Ready!"

We raised our pieces, but before the command to fire was given, one of
the sleepers threw aside his blanket, stretched himself and arose. It
was a white man!

I confess that for a moment I turned physically sick.

"Hello!" called Bagsby, quite unmoved.

The white man seized his rifle, and the recumbent forms leaped to life.

"Who are you?" he demanded sharply. "Speak quick!"

"Keep yore ha'r on!" drawled the trapper, advancing into the light.
"We're perfectly respectable miners, out looking for a lost man; and we
saw yore fire."

The res