A tall bush and several trees intervened between him and Jo, utterly unconscious of his danger. Without a sound he crawled along, his poniard gripped between the gleam of his strong white teeth, which gave him a snarling and sinister appearance. His plan was evident. He did not dare to risk a shot, for that would give the alarm and he would have no chance for loot.

Meanwhile, Jo continued entirely unconscious of the treacherous approach of this unseen foe. Jo was not thinking of any danger and his mind was far away on an excursion of its own, dreaming of the far corners of the earth to which they would sail, if by good fortune they found the treasure of the Lost Mine.

But Jo was in an ace of taking a longer journey than any that he was at that moment dreaming of. The Mexican had got almost within striking distance of Jo and had risen to his feet, not seeing the dog, and was just drawing back his arm to throw the fatal knife when Shep gave his growl of warning at the figure he saw in the shadow back of his master.

If Jo had been careless before he made up for it now. His experience stood him in good stead, for instead of rising to his feet to confront the danger as a tenderfoot would have done, he dropped down behind the rock as quickly as a pugilist ducks his opponent's lead. It was all that saved him. "Swish" swept the knife with a flash of steel through the air, where Jo's body had been the second before. Jo's pistol was in the tent on a box, but his hand, as he dropped, touched a stone.

The reader perhaps remembers what an accurate shot Jo was with a ball or rock. If his memory goes back far enough he will recall what Jo did to the Apache when he was trying to sneak up on the boys' fort in New Mexico.

As soon as the Mexican saw that he had missed his aim, he started to run. Jo saw his dark form a few feet away and hurled the rock, striking him behind the left shoulder and half knocking him down. Jo, the fleet of foot, was upon him in a couple of bounds, and now a furious struggle ensued between Jo and the Mexican. The Greaser was strong and wiry, also very desperate. Once he had Jo nearly gone, as he threw him to his knees, and put his weight upon his back to crush him down.

With a quick shift Jo got to his feet again, and the struggle was renewed. Jo finally got his man near a rock that stood up a foot and a half above the ground. Exerting all of his lithe strength he shoved him back so that his heels struck the rock. As the man toppled, Jo threw his whole weight against him, and back he went with tremendous force, striking his head against a pine tree.

This laid the Greaser out and Jo, panting heavily, dragged him into the firelight and in a minute more had him tied securely. Then he sat down on a rock, breathing hard, just as the voices of the returning boys could be heard at the foot of the hill as they were bringing in the horses. Jo said nothing, but sat quietly, knowing how surprised the boys would be to see this new addition to the family circle.

"Didn't see any wild Injuns, did you, Jo?" It was Jim's cheery voice.

"Narry Injun," replied Jo. Just then Caliente began to act up, surging around with his ears back and plunging to get away from Jim. Either he saw the Mexican or suspected his presence.

"Whoa, you Tiger!" cried Jim, but he had quite a tussle with him before he got him subdued. Even then Caliente kept snorting at intervals, with his nostrils dilating. Then the boys came toward the campfire from the shadow of the trees. Meanwhile Jo had thrown a blanket over the inert form of the Mexican, and he looked like an irregular log of wood.

Perhaps this was not a very gallant way to treat one's fallen foe, but you are not apt to feel very kindly towards a man who has just tried to throw a knife into your back. So Jo did not care much if he was sat upon and used for a sofa. This particular log was placed convenient to the fire.

"You look rather rumpled and pale, Jo," grinned Jim. "Did a hoot owl scare you while we were gone?"

"I bet Jo was hiding in the tent," jeered Tom, "with his head in the blankets."

Jo looked kind of sheepish and very red in the face. It was evident that he was struggling with some hidden emotion. Jim started to sit down upon the convenient log, and Tom likewise, the latter growling:

"You always try to get the best of everything."

Then they sat down upon the supposed log. To their utter surprise and ultimate horror, the log began to twist and turn.

"Whoopee!" yelled Tom, leaping six feet, it seemed, into the air, "it's a snake!" Jim rose more slowly, but very pale. He was deeply moved, not to say frightened. "Sancte Maria, Sancte Sebastina!" seemed the words issuing from the m.u.f.fled folds of the blanket. Jim tore it off and there was the Mexican whom Jo had had the round-up with.

"What!" cried Jim; "who is this?" Jeems' head was now looking between the flaps of the tent, into which he had dived headfirst when the log came to life.

"It's one of the gang that has been trailing us," cried Jeems.

Jo was rolling around in paroxysms of laughter.

"Whoopee!" he cried in imitation of brother Tom, "it's a snake," then he went off into another fit.

"You durned idiot," yelled the incensed Tom, "shut up laughing. I guess that fellow is a snake. You might have scared me into breaking a blood vessel."

"I came near scaring you into breaking the record for the high jump,"

panted Jo, weak from laughter.

"But where did you capture this specimen, Jo?" asked Jim with a quiet smile. To tell the truth he was somewhat chagrined, for he could not deny even to himself that he had been badly frightened by Jo's trick.

"Look a here, boys," cried Jeems, "here is where a knife has gone clean through the corner of this tent."

"Sure enough," agreed Jim, examining the cut in the canvas.

"Here's the weapon," said Juarez, who was quick to follow up a trail of any kind. He brought the dagger to the firelight, and they looked at it with interest. It had a very keen blade, sharp-pointed and two edged. The handle was richly engraved and of silver.

"How is this, Jo?" inquired Jim. "Tell us the whole story even if it implicates your friend here, the human log." There was a grim quality in Jim's voice which made the Mexican roll his eyes viciously.

CHAPTER XXI

THE GREASER

"You are certainly a great chap for collecting knives," said Jim admiringly to his brother Jo. "Somebody is always giving you one or throwing it at you. Remember that Indian friend of yours who crept up on you that night in Kansas and threw the bowie at you?"

"I'm not likely to forget that souvenir," grinned Jo. "But this fellow certainly was going to give me the best surprise of all. Was it not so, Senor Manuello Greasero?" and Jo gave the fellow a contemptuous stir with his foot and the Mexican responded with an open-mouthed snarl for all the world like a wild cat when you poke a stick at him.

"It was a dirty, treacherous piece of business," said Jim, his face growing dark with anger. "I'm going to put this fellow to the question."

But they made no headway with the prisoner, as he maintained a stubborn silence about himself and his a.s.sociates. Finally Jim, tired and disgusted, rose to his feet and looked down at the Mexican.

"Give me that dagger, Jo," he said. Jo handed over the silver-handled weapon, while the Mexican watched Jim with eyes of concentrated hate.

He believed his last hour had come.

"Have you got anything to say for yourself?" inquired Jim savagely, as he felt the edge of the knife with his thumb.

"I want to see a priest," croaked the Mexican in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

"I can furnish you with a philosopher," said Jim. "Here, Jeems, can you offer any advice to this cutthroat or consolation either?"

"I haven't any license to talk to the likes of him," said Jeems gravely. "He wants a guarantee for the next life and I won't give it to him. But I can tell him one thing, if he don't hang now, he will later."

When the Mexican saw that his life was going to be spared, he may have been surprised, but he showed no sign of grat.i.tude. It was now time for the boys to turn in, but of course the camp was not left without a guard. The night was divided up into watches. Tom was to watch until eleven; then Jeems Howell was to have the watch until one; Jim to three; Juarez to five, and Jo the hour until six.

It was necessary to keep up a moderate fire, for the hours toward midnight were very cold. Tom kept moving around briskly when the others had turned into the tent.

The boys did not lay awake a minute, for they were wholesomely tired and the clear, cold air, touched with the fragrance of the pines, caused them to sleep sound and hard. The light from the fire shone into the tent where the boys were stretched out, wrapped in their blankets. They did not have to sleep with one eye open, because they had confidence that the one on guard would warn them if any danger approached.

Tom, as I have said, was on the alert. He moved around the camp, seeing that the horses were all right and going down the slope of the hill a ways in the darkness if he heard any suspicious sound, with his pistol gripped firmly in his hand and the faithful Shep pattering along at his heels. The dog was a good deal of company for Tom. Then they would return to the fire where the Mexican lay bound, with his hat pulled down over his head, but with his shifty black eyes continually on the alert. If he had any plan, he had no chance to carry it out while Tom was on duty.

At eleven o'clock promptly, Tom stole into the tent, and stepping over Juarez waked up Jeems, who sat up with a tousled head of hair and sadly sleepy, but he took it all like a philosopher, and stooped out of the tent to take his watch on deck. A slight change had come over the weather. A few dark and heavy clouds were drifting high across the valley and there was a steady roar of wind among the pines upon the mountain slopes.

The prisoner noticed the change of guard with interest. "I am thirsty, Senor," he said. The philosopher went and procured for him a drink. "A little closer to the fire now, Senor. I feel cold." The shepherd did as requested.

"Don't ask me to make tea for you now, because I would have to refuse."

The man gave no sign that he understood, and Jeems went back to the horses to see how they were getting along. It was quite a family party of animals and if one had been gone the others would have missed him sadly.