“The Indian had this around his neck,” said Dick, “and when he fell it came loose from his neck, and I picked it up, for I thought some one might think I wasn’t telling the truth.  Now, I’m tired, and I can’t keep my eyes open.”

His head began to nod, and his eyes closed.

Bud picked him up and carried him to a pair of blankets which had been spread on the shady side of Mrs. Graham’s tent, and laid him down and left him dead to the world.

Dick had placed the little, round looking-glass in Ted’s hand.

As he took it, Ted uttered an exclamation.

“By Jove,” he exclaimed, “I believe this is the little glass Stella used to carry in her pocket.  Why, what is this?”

Ted was holding the little mirror up to the sky, apparently in an endeavor to look through it.

“What is it?” asked Bud, approaching the fire.

“Dick has brought back Stella’s little pocket mirror,” said Ted.  “I’d know it anywhere.  But the back has been torn off it.”

“Tooken off ther neck o’ an Injun?” said Bud, dropping his usual jolly manner.  “I thought yer said thar wa’n’t no bad Injuns eround yere, Sol Flatbush.  What d’yer make o’ that?”

Sol Flatbush got a little pale.

“Thar ain’t none,” he said.  “All ther Injuns on the reservation is peaceable.  They knows they couldn’t do no monkey business with all them sojers at Fort Sill.”

“Yet here’s a kid run off with by an Injun, and he brings back a pocket mirror what belonged to Stella Fosdick.  Sol Flatbush, ye’ve got ter give a better defense o’ ther Injuns than that.”

“What hev I got ter do with ther Injuns?” asked Flatbush defiantly.

“Search me.  But ye’ve made a wrong diagnosis, an’ I don’t like yer brand o’ talk none.  I think myself thet yer too friendly ter ther redskins.”

“What d’ye mean?” cried Flatbush, springing to his feet.

“I mean thet I don’t trust yer none.  I think ye’re a skunk, an’ I don’t like ter see yer face eround this yere camp.  How much do this outfit owe yer?”

“Three months’ wage,” answered the cow-puncher sourly.

Bud went down into his leather pouch and extracted a roll of bills, and skinned off several.

“Thar it is.  Skidoo!  An’ don’t try ter mingle with this outfit none hereafter.  Thar’ll be a new foreman o’ ther night herd what ain’t got so many friends in this yere locality.”

“What d’yer mean by that?” Flatbush’s hand sprang to his side.

But Bud was quicker, and in the flash of an eye had the muzzle of his six-shooter under the nose of the night foreman, who shrank from it.

“I mean thet yer a crook, an’ I’ll give yer jest three minutes ter rope yer hoss an’ git.”

Flatbush turned and hurried to the remuda, caught and saddled his horse, and rode out of camp.

“I’ve had my eye on that maverick fer quite some time,” said Bud, turning to the boys after he had watched Flatbush fade into the distance.  “I’ve suspected him o’ turnin’ off our cattle every night.  I haven’t caught him at it, or thar wouldn’t’ve been no necessity o’ chasin’ him out.  He’d’ve gone feet foremost.”