The boys listened to all this with deep interest.  They had never come in contact with such cold-blooded discussion over human lives.  They began to understand something of the things they had read concerning conditions in the Lone Star State in the early days when men’s passions ran riot; when practically the only law of the land was the law of the gun.  Now, conditions had changed.  It was only in certain localities that lawlessness reigned in Texas, but these were bad spots, as evidenced by the presence of the Rangers, that intrepid body of men that for thirty years had been the terror of evildoers.  The Rangers were pitted against a worthy foe in this instance, though it was a certainty that in time the Rangers would get their men, either dead or alive.

“And now I reckon I’ll be going,” decided the lieutenant, after having partaken heartily of the appetizing meal.  “I’ll be expecting you at the Spring when we get there to-morrow.”

“Thank you; we will endeavor to be there.  It will be a pleasure to meet your commander.  We may get some useful advice from him.”

“We’ll bring up your horse if you will tell us where he is,” offered Tad.

“Thanks, pard.  He’s on the other side of the creek about fifteen rods from here.”

Accompanied by Ned, Tad hurried down, but found some difficulty in locating the horse, so carefully had the animal been secreted.  Withem smiled when he saw them coming back.

“I guess you boys are all right,” he nodded.

They helped him load the prisoner over the horse’s back, after which, giving each of the party a cordial shake of the hand, Lieutenant Withem rode away.  They observed that his rifle was resting across the body of the prisoner, as if the lieutenant were looking for trouble.  The trouble came sooner than they expected.  The Ranger had been gone less than twenty minutes when a volley of rifle shots crashed out.

“He’s attacked!” cried Tad.

“Quick!  Put out the fire!” shouted the professor.

“Don’t wait for the fire.  We must go to his assistance!” answered Tad, snatching up his rifle and making a bolt for his pony.  “Come on, boys, we’ve got something to do this time.”

“Stop!” commanded the professor.

“What, sit here while a band of bandits are perhaps murdering Lieutenant Withem?  I can’t do that.  You stay here, Professor.  We will take care of ourselves.  Don’t worry about us.  Chunky, you’d better stay here with the professor.  You haven’t got sand enough to—–­”

“What, me stay here?” shouted the fat boy, starting for his own mount.  “I guess you don’t know what kind of a man I am.  Come on, fellows.  Whoop!”

Stacy leaped into his saddle.  Ned Rector and Walter Perkins already had taken to their saddles.  The professor saw that it was useless to try to stop the boys.  He groaned aloud.  But Professor Zepplin was very active for his years.  Ere the enthusiastic Pony Riders had started to gallop away the professor had made a flying leap into his saddle and a few seconds later was pounding down the canyon, along the West Fork, in the wake of the racing Pony Rider Boys.