They pulled the lazy guide to his feet, starting off with him, when all at once Tad happened to think that one of the ponies was back there somewhere among the Indians.

“You stay here, and don’t make a fool of yourself this time!” commanded Tad.

“Where are you going?”

“After your pony.  You hang on to Juan.  I’ll hold you responsible for him, Chunky.”

“Guess I can take care of a lazy Mexican if I can floor a redskin,” answered Stacy proudly.

But Tad was off.  He had not heard the last remark of his companion.  In picking his way carefully around the camp to where he had seen a lot of ponies tethered, Tad found a Navajo blanket.  He quickly possessed himself of it, throwing it over his head, wrapping himself in its folds.

He was now in plain sight of the wild antics of the dancers, who, still mad with the excitement of the hour, were performing all manner of weird movements.  For a moment, the lad squatted down to watch them.  He had been there but a short time when a voice at his side startled him, and Tad was about to take a fresh sprint when he realized that it was not the voice of a savage.

“Young man, you’d better light out of here while you’ve got the chance,” said the stranger.

Turning sharply, Tad discovered a man, who, like himself, was wrapped in a gaudy blanket.  He was unable to see the man’s face, which was hidden under the Navajo.

“Who are you?” demanded the lad sharply.

“I’m an Indian agent.  I only got wind of this proposed fire dance late this afternoon.  These men will all be punished unless they return to their reservations peaceably.  If they do, they will be let go with a warning.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“They?  Not much,” laughed the agent.

“But supposing they ask you a question?”

“I can talk all the different tribal languages represented here.  You’d better go now.  Where are you from?”

Tad explained briefly.

“Well, you have had a narrow escape tonight.  If they catch you again they’ll make short work of you.”

“They won’t catch me.  Thank you and good-bye.”

“Don’t go that way.  Strike straight back; then you will have an open course.”

“I’m going after my companion’s pony.  I think I know where to find it,” answered Tad, wrapping the blanket about himself and stealing across an open moonlit space without attracting attention.

The Indian agent watched him curiously for a moment; then he rose and followed quickly after Tad.

“That boy is either a fool—­ which I don’t think—­ or else he doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘fear.’”

Tad did not find Stacy’s pony where he had expected.  Indian ponies were tethered all about, singly and in groups, while here and there one was left to graze where it would.

“What sort of a looking pony is yours?” questioned the agent, coming up to him.