“A roan.”

“Then I think I know where he is.  He was not like the horses in this vicinity, which attracted my attention to him.”

The agent led the way, in a roundabout course, to the south side of the camp, where they began looking over the animals.  Occasionally a redskin would pass them, but no one gave either the slightest heed.

“Here he is,” whispered Tad.”

“Lead him off.  Don’t mount just yet.”

Tad did as the agent had suggested.  But all at once something happened.  Tad’s blanket had dropped from his shoulders, revealing him in his true colors.  An Indian uttered a yell.  Tad sprang into his saddle and put spurs to the pony.  In a moment more than a dozen redskins had mounted and started yelling after him, believing he was stealing a pony.

Tad headed away to the south to give his companions a chance to get out of the way, and the savages came in full cry after him.

CHAPTER VII

 Fleeing from the enemy

A shrill cry was wafted to the boy.

After a few moments Tad realized that they were no longer on his trail.  He knew the cry had been a signal, warning them to halt.  What he did not know, however, was that the Indian agent had been responsible for the signal; that he in all probability had saved the boy’s life.

The lad, after satisfying himself that the Indians had abandoned the chase, at once circled about, coming back to the point where he had left Chunky and the Mexican.  They were both there waiting for him.

“What was all that row?” demanded the fat boy.  “We were having a little horse race, that’s all,” grinned Tad grimly; “Hurry along, now.”

They reached their own camp in safety an hour later.  The two boys had much to relate, and as the narration proceeded, Professor Zepplin shook his head disapprovingly.

“Young gentlemen, much as I have enjoyed this summer’s outing, it’s a wonder I haven’t had nervous prostration long before this.  It’ll be a load off my mind if I get you all back in Chillicothe without anything serious happening to you.”

“I think,” suggested Tad, “that we had better strike camp at once and move on.  The moon is shining brightly, and Juan ought to have no trouble in leading the way.”

“Yes; that will be an excellent idea.  You think they may give as further trouble?” questioned the Professor.

“They may before morning.  They’re getting more ugly every minute.”

“Everything worth while seems to happen when I am not around,” protested Ned.

“Good thing you weren’t along,” replied Stacy.  “You’d been scared stiff.  It was no place for tenderfeet.”

“You—­ you call me a tenderfoot?” snapped Ned, starting for him.

“Stop quarreling, you two!” commanded Tad.  “We’ve had all the fighting we want for one night.  Get busy and help strike this camp.  Guess none of this outfit could truthfully be called a tenderfoot.  We’ve all had our share of hard knocks, and we’ll have enough to look back to and think about when we get home and have time to go over our experiences together this winter.”