Riding in, they were soon swallowed up in the shadows.

“Hold my pony a moment,” directed Tad, slipping to the ground.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, just this minute.  I’m going to look around.”

The lad peered through the bushes until, uttering a low exclamation, he turned to his companion.

“I see him.  He’s over on the other side—­”

“Who?  Juan?”

“Yes.  Now I want you to remain right here.  Don’t move away.  I’ll tie my pony so he won’t give you any trouble.  Sit perfectly quiet, and if any Indians come along don’t bother them.  I’m going around the outside, so I don’t have to pass through the crowd, though they seem too busy to notice anyone.”

Tad slipped away in the shadows until he came to a spot opposite where he had caught a glimpse of the lazy Mexican.

He discovered Juan in the center of a circle of dusky Indians who were squatting on the ground.  Some of the braves were clothed in nondescript garments, while others were attired in gaudy blankets.  These were the gamblers.

At that moment their efforts were concentrated on winning from Juan the wages of his first week’s work with the Pony Rider Boys.  A blanket had been spread over the ground, and on this they were wagering small amounts on the throw of the dice, a flickering camp-fire near by dimly lighting up the blanket and making the reading of the dice a difficult matter for any but the keenest of eyes.  The sing-song calls of the players added to the weirdness of the scene.

Tad waited long enough to observe that the guide lost nearly every time, the stolid-faced red men raking in his coins with painful regularity.

“It’s a wonder he has a cent left.  But they’re not playing for very large amounts, as near as I can tell.”

Each time the Mexican lost he would utter a shrill “si, si,” then lured by the hope that Dame Fortune would favor him, reached greedily for the next throw.

“It’s time for me to do something,” muttered Tad.

Stepping boldly from his cover, he walked up to the edge of the circle.

“Juan!” he called sharply.

“Si,” answered the Mexican, without looking up.

“Juan!”

This time the word was uttered in a more commanding voice.

“You come with me!”

The guide, oblivious to all beyond the terrible fascination of the game he was playing, gave no heed to Tad Butler’s stern command.  Three times did Tad call to him, but without result.  One of the red men cast an angry glance in the Tad’s direction, and then returned to his play.

Without an instant’s hesitation, Tad sprang over into the center of the circle, and grasping Juan by an ear, jerked him to his feet.

Red hands fell to belts and dark faces scowled menacingly at the intruder.

“You come with me, Juan!”

Juan sought to jerk away, but under the strong pull on his ear, he did not find it advisable to force himself from his captor’s grip.