“We do not know that either.  They disappeared utterly.”

“Just like Withem,” nodded the guest, smiling.  “But I’ll pick him up some time to-night.  I suppose they are on the track of some of the fellows who have been raising trouble around these parts of late.”

“Yes, that’s what the lieutenant said.  They are after what they call the Border Gang.  But I have no need to tell you about it.  You surely are familiar with the subject.”

“I reckon I know all about it, Professor.  Was it some of my men who shot up the bandits the other night and—–­”

“No, that was us fellows,” interjected Stacy suddenly.  “We did give them the run.  And they thought it was the Rangers too.  Oh, that was a good joke.  I nearly laugh myself sick every time I think about that funny scrape.  We bluffed them and they ran away.”

For the briefest part of a second the eyes of the visitor darkened.  They grew almost filmy, then the old sparkle came into them and a grim smile appeared on the face of their owner.

“You sure are a fine crop of youngsters.  You probably will be claiming the reward for the capture of Tucker, eh?”

“Not at all, not at all,” protested Professor Zepplin.  “My young men are not looking for rewards.  It is reward enough that they were able to serve the authorities in the capture of a very bad man.  We shall do whatever we can in our small way to help the Rangers round up the rest of this disreputable gang.”

“Of course, of course,” answered the captain reflectively.

Tad had taken no part in the conversation.  He did not like this freedom of speech on the part of the professor.  What they had learned were better kept to themselves according to Tad Butler’s reasoning.  Then again there was a faint suspicion in the mind of the Pony Rider Boy, that he could not clearly explain to himself.  What did strike him as peculiar was that so much of the Rangers’ movements should be unknown to their commanding officer.  McKay had ever since coming into their camp been seeking information.  Still, as he had said, he had been away.  Tad knew that the Rangers took long rides, sometimes hundreds of miles, using relays of horses and making almost as good time as they could have done going by trains.

The lad decided that he was unduly suspicious.  Suddenly, as McKay was talking, a shot sounded somewhere off on the plains.  The Ranger sprang to his feet, his eyes darkened.

“Is—–­is something wrong?” stammered the professor.

“There may be.  I must investigate.  You will say nothing about having met me,” commanded the stranger sternly.

“Certainly not, certainly not.”

“I will bid you good day.  I’ll see you again when I may have something more to say.”

With that McKay ran to his pony, and leaping into the saddle tore through the brush at a perilous pace.  Tad observed what the others failed to see.  He noted that the Ranger had returned in the direction from which he had come, rather than riding off toward the direction from which the shot had sounded.  This struck Tad as a peculiar thing for a Texas Ranger to do.