"Who are you, my man!" demanded the Professor sternly, peering down into the prisoner's dark, sullen face.

There was no response.

"Humph! Can't he talk, Thomas?"

"I reckon he can, but he won't," grinned Lige. "There ain't no use in asking him questions. He knows we've caught him in the act, and he knows, too, what the penalty is."

"The penalty--the penalty? You refer to imprisonment, of course?"

"No; that ain't what I mean."

"Then, to what penalty do you refer?" inquired the Professor.

"We usually hang a hoss thief in this country," replied the guide, grimly. "But, of course, it's for you and the boys to say what shall be done."

"Hang him? Hang him? Certainly not! How can you suggest such a thing?

We will turn him over to the officers of the law, and let them dispose of him in the regular way," declared the Professor with emphasis.

"That's all right, but where are we going to find any officers?" asked Tad. "They don't seem to be numerous about here."

"The young gentleman has. .h.i.t the bull's-eye, sir. It's sixty miles, and more, to a jail. You don't want to go back, do you?"

"Certainly not."

"That's how we men of the mountains come to take the law into our own hands, sometimes. We have to be officers and jails, all in one,"

hinted the guide significantly.

"Then, there remains only one thing for us to do, regrettable as it may seem," decided the Professor after a moment's thought.

"Yes, sir?"

"Let the fellow go, but with the admonition not to offend again."

Lige laughed.

"Heap he'll care about that," he retorted, his, face growing glum.

However, at the Professor's direction, the prisoner was liberated. No sooner was this done than the fellow leaped to his feet and started to run.

"Catch him!" roared Lige.

Tad promptly stuck out a foot. The mountaineer tripped over it, measuring his length on the ground. Lige jerked the fellow to his feet and stood him against a tree, the thief becoming suddenly meek when he found himself looking along the barrel of a large six-shooter.

"I reckon you can run now, if you want to," grinned the guide suggestively.

"Admonish him," urged the Professor.

"Now, you see here, fellow," said Lige in a menacing tone, "you've struck a rich find tonight. Next time, I reckon you won't get off so easy. I've got you marked. I'll find out what your brand is, then I'll tell the sheriff to be on the lookout for you. Now, you hit the trail as fast as your legs'll carry you. If I catch you up to any more tricks--well, you know the answer. Now, git!"

And the late prisoner did. One bound carried him almost out of camp. The boys shouted derisively as they heard him floundering through the bushes as he hastily made his escape.

"Where is Walt? Did he go hack to bed?" asked Tad, after the excitement had subsided.

"To bed? No; he followed you," replied Stacy Brown.

"Followed us? You are mistaken. Did you see anything of Walter Perkins, Mr. Thomas?"

The guide shook his head.

"Did not go with you? I think you must be in error," spoke up the Professor, with quick concern.

"He certainly was not with us," insisted Ned. "I did not even see him leave his tent."

"Why, he must have gone. With my own eyes I saw him running after you," urged Professor Zepplin in a tone of great anxiety.

"Guide, get torches at once. The boy surely is lost."

Alarmed, the boys needed no further incentive to spur them to instant action. Grasping f.a.gots from the fire, they lined up, standing with anxious faces, awaiting the direction of Lige Thomas, to whom they instinctively looked to command the searching party.

"Wait a minute," commanded Lige in a calm voice. "Which way did you see him go, Professor?"

"Let me reflect. I am not sure--yes, I am. I distinctly remember having seen him run obliquely to the left there. It was just after I had lost my tent----"

"Over that way?" asked Lige, pointing.

"Yes, that was the direction. I am positive of it now. But, if he went that way, he didn't follow you?" added the Professor hesitatingly.

"Do you know what lies there, less than ten rods away?" asked the guide, gravely.

"I don't understand you."

"There's a cliff there that drops down a clear hundred feet," answered Lige, impressively.

A heavy silence fell over the little group.

CHAPTER VII

OVER THE CLIFF

Professor Zepplin's face worked convulsively as he sought to control his emotions.

"You--you can't mean it, sir. You cannot mean that Walter has come to any real harm? I----"

"I don't know. I'm only telling you what to expect."