“Show yourself, Greaser!” cried Dick.

The concealed enemy obeyed without an instant’s hesitation, and when he stepped into the path, Archie saw that it was Antoine Mercedes.

“Thar’s nothin’ like knowin’ the tricks of the varmints,” said Dick, coolly, as he handed his rifle to Archie, and proceeded to disarm Antoine.  “If I had been a greenhorn, I should have been well-nigh choked to death by this time; but a man who has seed prairy life, soon larns that his ears was made for use as well as his eyes.  Now, little un, whar’s the rest of them fellers?”

While the trapper was engaged in confining his prisoners’ arms with their own lassos, Archie gave him a rapid account of all that had happened during his captivity, dwelling with a good deal of emphasis on the treachery of Arthur Vane.  Dick opened his eyes in astonishment, and, when Archie had finished his story, declared that they would be serving Arthur right if they were to leave him among the robbers.

“Why, he doesn’t want to get away from them,” said Archie.  “He is with them now, hunting for us.  He and I had a fight not half an hour ago, and, if Antoine had only stayed away a few minutes longer, Arthur would have been a prisoner too.”

At this moment, a party of Rancheros galloped up, led by Uncle James and Mr. Harris, and accompanied by the dogs, which the boys—­who had intended to devote the most of their time to stalking the elks, which were abundant in the mountains—­had left at home.  Marmion and Carlo made every demonstration of joy at seeing Archie once more, and Mr. Winters greeted him as though he had not met him for years.

Without any unnecessary delay, a trusty herdsman was dismounted, and sent back to the ranch with the prisoners, and Archie mounted his horse.

“You had better go home,” said Mr. Winters, looking at his nephew’s rags and bruises.

“Oh no, uncle,” said Archie, quickly.  “I promised Frank and Johnny that, if I succeeded in getting away, I wouldn’t sleep until they were safe among friends.  I want to go with you.”

Uncle James did not urge the matter, and Dick, although he shook his head at Archie, and called him a “keerless feller,” was proud of his pluck.

The trapper, who was the acknowledged leader of the party, set out at a rapid trot toward the pass, but had not gone far, when he stopped, and turned his head on one side to listen.  “Spread out, fellers,” said he, waving his hand toward the bushes on each side of him.  “Thar’s something comin’.”

The horsemen separated, and took up their positions on each side of the path.  They could hear nothing but the chirping of the birds, and the sighing of the wind through the branches above their heads; but they had not been long in their concealments before they found that Dick had not been deceived.  The clatter of a horse’s hoofs on the hard path, faint and far off at first, but growing louder as