“I don’t wonder,” said Dick soberly.

For he, as well as Wah Lee, would never look upon one of those hideous reptiles without a shudder.  As clearly as though it were yesterday, he saw again that morning in the Mexican hills, when, tied to a tree, he had looked upon the monster rattlesnake that was to torture him, and prayed that he might have courage to die without disgracing his manhood.  Wah Lee, his companion in captivity, had been brought out first, thrown flat on the ground and fastened securely to stakes.  Just out of reach, a rattlesnake, with a buckskin thong passed through its tail, was tied to a stake.  Tortured by rage and pain, the reptile struck at the Chinaman’s face, but couldn’t quite make the distance.  Then water was poured on the thong and it began to stretch.  With each spring the awful fangs came nearer, and it was only a question of minutes before they would be embedded in the victim’s flesh.  Then, from the woods, Melton’s bowie knife had whizzed, slicing the snake’s head from his body, and the next instant in a rain of bullets the rescuing party had burst into the clearing.

Later on, they had found Wah Lee on their hands, and at his earnest entreaties had taken him with them to Panama.  There he had found employment in the house of a wealthy Japanese landholder, and by the merest chance had been able to convey to Bert a hint of the conspiracy to destroy the Canal.  The plot had been frustrated by Bert’s daring exploit, and on the return of the party to America Wah Lee had again accompanied them.  When they had provided for him and sent him West they never thought that again their paths would cross.  Yet here he was, as bland and smiling as ever, on this remote ranch in the Rocky Mountains.  The world was only a small place, after all.

For a long time after he had trotted away again to his duties in the kitchen they sat discussing the exciting events that his reappearance had brought back to their minds.  Then, at last, Melton arose and shook the ashes from his pipe.

“I reckon you youngsters are about ready to turn in,” he said.  “You’ve had a long ride and it’s getting pretty late.  We’ll have plenty of time to chin before the summer’s over.  For I give you fair warning,” he added with his genial smile, “I’ve got you roped now and I ain’t going to let you go in a hurry.”

He took them up to their rooms, cool, spacious and provided with every comfort.  There with a cordial good-night he left them.

Their windows faced toward the north and commanded a magnificent view of the mountains.  Tall, solemn, majestic, they towered upward in wild and rugged beauty.  The moon had risen and the distant peaks were flooded with light.  It was a scene to delight the soul of an artist and the boys lingered under the spell.

“Just such a night as when we crouched in the shadow of that big rock in the Mexican forest,” murmured Bert.  “Do you remember, Tom?”