“Are you hurt?” demanded Tad breathlessly.

“I’m killed.”

“Nonsense!  It’s only a flesh wound—–­”

“Is—–­is he shot?” stammered Walter Perkins.

“Of course I’m shot.  Don’t you see I am?” demanded Chunky with considerable spirit for a man who had been the mark of a bullet and who according to his own word was dead.

Tad half dragged the fat boy down to the creek where the blood was quickly washed from his cheek.  It was then seen that a bullet had grazed Stacy’s cheek, leaving a raw streak across it.

Professor Zepplin, now mindful of his duty, had hurried up to them, and down on his knees was examining the wound critically.

“Hm—–­m—–­m!” he muttered.  “Bad business, bad business!”

“But—–­what does it mean?” urged Walter.

“What does it mean?  It means that the Germans have got us,” wailed Stacy Drown.  “Oh, I knew we should be in this war sooner or later, but I didn’t think I should be the first man to get shotted up.”

“It means some one has been trying to shoot us up,” answered Rector.

“Trying!” exploded Chunky.  “They did more than try.  They succeeded.  Don’t you see this wound on my countenance?  Wait till I get sight of the man who put that mark on my face.  I’ll bear the scar for life.  I-----”

“It is my opinion that we are in a dangerous position,” declared the professor, getting up and glancing about him apprehensively.

“We were.  We are all right here for a little while,” replied Tad.  “But we shall have to seek other quarters, I am afraid, and that without delay.”

“Surely, it must be a mistake,” protested the professor.  “Some one must have been shooting at us under a misapprehension that we were another party.”

“It doesn’t make any difference what their motive is, sir,” answered Tad.  “The fact remains that some one is trying to get us and we must look lively or they will pink one or more of us.  Get up, Stacy!  You are all right.  Lead your pony in here while I take an observation.”

Tad mounted his own horse and galloped along at the base of the rocks, well shielded from any one who might be hiding further back in the mountains.  The Pony Rider Boy’s mind was working rapidly.  He was forming a plan of campaign.  He was inclined to agree with the theory of Professor Zepplin.  Still, theories would not help them at this critical moment.  They must protect themselves and at once if they expected to get out alive.  One course was plainly open to them.  They could mount their ponies and ride out over the plains at a gallop and perhaps escape.  However, this plan was rather risky.  Besides, Tad did not like the idea of running away.

“No, we’ve got to do something else,” he declared out loud.  “I have it!” The boy brought his pony up standing and gazed off over the plain to a point about a quarter of a mile beyond, where the plain rolled into a hollow, a “hog hollow” as it was called down there.