"Here you go," said Ned, sending his sombrero spinning high in the air, hoping thereby to take Stacy so much by surprise that he would be unable to draw a bead on it.

But Chunky demonstrated that, however slow he might be in some other things, he could tw.a.n.g a bow with remarkable skill.

Even before the hat had spent its upward flight, Stacy Brown's bowstring sang, a slender dark streak sped through the air, its course laid directly for the hat of which its owner was so proud.

"Hi there! Look out! You're going to hit it!" warned Ned.

That was exactly what Stacy had intended to do, though none had had the slightest idea that he could shoot well enough to accomplish the feat.

To their astonishment, the keen-pointed arrow went fairly into the center of the hat, coming out at the crown, its feathered b.u.t.t tearing a great rent in the peak of the sombrero as it pa.s.sed through.

Ned groaned as he witnessed the disaster that had come upon his new hat. But he got no sympathy from the rest of the boys.

"I'll trade with you. You can wear mine," consoled Chunky, observing his companion's rueful countenance as he picked up the sombrero, sorrowfully surveying the rent in its peak. "I'll do nothing of the sort," snapped Ned. "I told you to shoot at it. It serves me right and I'll take my medicine like a man. If it rains, I'll stuff the hole full of leaves," he added humorously. "Then my umbrella will be just as good as yours."

"That's the talk," approved the boys. "Anybody else want to offer his hat to the sacrifice!" grinned Chunky.

"I think hereafter you had better use the blunt arrows unless you are shooting at game," advised the guide. "Those flint arrow heads are dangerous things for work such as yours. I'll pack them away, so there will be no danger of an accident."

After having practiced in camp for a time, the boys strayed off, hoping for a chance to try their skill on some live thing. To this the Professor made no objection, for they were now becoming so used to the mountains as to be quite well able to take care of themselves, unless they got too far from camp, which they were not likely to do.

Tad soon strolled away by himself, taking a course due south by his pocket compa.s.s. This led him directly over the range where they had been shooting earlier in the day, and the boy smiled with pride as he pa.s.sed the target and counted up the bullet holes that his own rifle had made. He then pressed on, intending to enter the cedar forest that crowned a great ridge some distance beyoud him.

Before reaching there, however, Tad sat down in a rocky basin, to enjoy to the fullest the sense of being alone in the mountain fastness. His quiver was full of arrows, and the strong, business-like looking bow lay across his knees.

"If I could see a bob-cat now, I'd have something real to interest me," Tad confided to himself.

But not a sign of animal life did he observe anywhere about him.

Tad's right hand was resting on a small jagged stone beside him. It felt cool under his touch, and, after a little, the boy carelessly picked it up and looked at it. As he gazed, his eyes took on a different expression. The stone, in spots, sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. He turned it over and over, examining it critically.

"I wonder if it is gold?" marveled the boy, his eyes growing large with wonder. "I'll take it back to camp and ask Lige."

Tad scrambled to his feet, but ere he could carry out his purpose of starting for camp, an unexpected and startling thing happened.

There was a whir, as of some object being hurled through the air. The boy experienced a stinging sensation on his right cheek, as the missile grazed it, and a stone the size of a man's hand clattered to the rocks several feet ahead of him, rolling over and over, finally toppling from a small cliff.

Some one had thrown the stone at him. Had it hit the boy's head fairly it almost surely would have killed him. Tad Butler needed no other evidence than that afforded by his own senses to tell him the missile was intended for him.

He whirled sharply. But not a person was in sight. All at once, however, the keen-eyed boy discovered a slight movement in the sage brush, a few rods to the rear of where he had been sitting.

Like a flash he whipped a blunt arrow from the quiver.

The bow tw.a.n.ged viciously, and the arrow sped straight into the sage brush. A yell of rage and a floundering about in the bush as if someone were running, told the boy that his shot had reached a human mark.

Pacing the sage, Tad had become conscious of the fact that before him lay a large black hole in the rocks, and he dimly realized that he had come upon a cave. But he gave the matter no further attention at that moment, his first thought being that he must get back to camp as quickly as possible.

Stringing his bow, Tad hurled another arrow into the brush, then bounded away, wondering vaguely who his mysterious enemy might be.

CHAPTER XV

THE BATTLE IN THE CAVE

Reaching the rifle range, Tad sat down to think over the occurrences of the past half hour. Why anyoue should wish to do him harm, he could not understand. And, if anyoue did, why should he adopt such a peculiar way of attack? Had it been a mountaineer, Tad was sure the man would have used a gun instead of standing off and throwing stones at turn like a petulant school boy. He realized too, that they had a different mode of procedure in the mountains.

"I'd have been as dead as Chunky's bob-cat if the stone had hit me fairly," muttered the boy. "Anyway, I've got a chunk of something that looks a good deal like gold, in my pocket," he added.

Deciding to say nothing about his recent experience to his companions, Tad strolled slowly toward camp. Yet, he had firmly made up his mind to go back to the spot later and make sure that his suspicions were correct.

Most of the boys had returned by the time Tad arrived, and there was a clamor to know the result of his hunting trip.

"Maybe I shot a cat. But, I didn't," he grinned.

"What's that!" demanded Ned.

"Anyway, I've brought back a chunk of gold and discovered a cave. That's more than the rest of you have done, I'll warrant."

Either announcement would have been sufficient to arouse the interest of the campers, and they crowded about Tad, demanding to know what he meant by his mysterious words.

"I found a cave, I tell you," he repeated.

"Where?" asked Lige.

Tad explained its location as well as he could.

"And I found this chunk of gold, too," he added proudly.

The guide took the piece of ore, examining it carefully.

"That isn't gold," he laughed. "That is what is known as 'fools'

gold.'"

"Scientifically known as 'iron pyrites'" explained the Professor.

Tad's jaw fell at this shattering of his hopes. Yet, when Lige tossed the piece of mineral on the ground, the boy picked it up and dropped it back in his pocket. Why he did this he did not know. Perhaps it was instinct. However, after a few moments he had forgotten all about it.

"You must have had a fight with a bob-cat to get that fierce scratch on your cheek," chuckled Ned Rector. "I must say that Chunky has you beaten to a--a--I've forgotten the word I want--when it conies to fighting cats."

"I have seen no cats to-day, Ned. But I have found a real cave. Will you take us over to explore it, in the morning, Mr. Thomas? I'll show you the biggest thing of its kind you ever have seen, if you'll go,"

promised Tad, enthusiastically.

"Providing we don't go hunting, yes, and--and find some more fools'

gold," laughed the guide.

Tad went to his tent, for the wound in his cheek was giving him considerable pain, and a glance into the hand mirror showed him that the cheek was beginning to swell.