Riding cautiously among the trees until he thought he was about back of the fire Megget gave the word to dismount.

A short distance to the south and above them was a ledge from which they would be able to command a view of the camp fire, and rapidly the raiders made their way to It.

What they saw when they reached the top and gazed down caused them to exclaim in amazement.

The cowboys were saddling their ponies, and instead of the three men they had expected to discover, Megget and his companions saw a dozen.

“That’s the Half-Moon bunch!” declared one of them.

“There are too many of them,” asserted another.  “We’re in a pretty mess now.  Those three men we followed have evidently informed them of finding our trail and they are starting to pick it up.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” growled Megget.  And before his companions were aware what he intended to do, he uttered the calls that caused the ranch owners and cowboys to start out into the prairie.

Eagerly the raiders watched them disappear and Megget chuckled: 

“I thought I could fool ’em.  It’s easy when you are above any one.”  And then he added:  “You’ll wish you had never started after me, Wilder!”

Wondering at their leader’s meaning, his fellows had no chance to ask, however, for even as he spoke Megget was descending from the ledge.

Arriving at the camp fire, he glanced about for a few moments, then sent his men for the horses.

As soon as he was sure he was alone, the leader of the raiders walked out on the plains, paused, wet his finger in his mouth, then raised his hand above his head.

“Great!  I’m sure playing in luck,” he muttered to himself.  “The wind is blowing from the west—­straight out across the plains.”  And chuckling grimly, the cattle thief returned to the fire to await the horses.

Mounting quickly when they arrived, Megget gave a curt order for his own men to follow and galloped in the same direction the ranch owners and cowboys had taken.

At the end of a quarter of a mile he drew rein and again went through the performance of wetting his finger and raising it above his head, murmuring more to himself than his pals: 

“I didn’t know but that the hills might have changed the direction of the wind.

“Here, you,” he added, turning to his men, “two of you ride a mile up and Squinty and I’ll ride south.  When I give the call, fire the grass and then ride for the trail and drive the cattle to the mine.  I’ll cut across and warn Vasquez and the others.”

CHAPTER XX

THE PRAIRIE FIRE

As his men heard the words and realized their significance, they glanced at their leader and then at one another.

Yet none of them moved.

“Are you deaf?” roared Megget.  “Do as I say—­and lively.  Squinty, come with me.”  And clapping spurs to his pony, he dashed southward.