“How?”

“Listen, and you’ll know.  I’m going to get on the pony; then, as soon as I’m in the saddle, you jump up behind me and we’ll start back to camp.”

“Not—­ not through that fire?” protested Stacy.

“No; I don’t dare try it.  I’m afraid we’d get lost in the smoke and perhaps get burned as well.  We’ll ride out some distance, then turn to the left and try to go around the burned district.”

“What if the Indians chase us?”

“I don’t believe they will.  They’ll hardly dare do that.  And, besides, these may be friendly Indians.”

“Huh!” grunted Stacy.  “They look it.”

Tad got up boldly, and without even looking toward the silent red men, began fussing about his saddle, cinching the girths, and straightening the saddle.  His last act before mounting was to see that the coils of his lariat were in order.

“All right,” announced the lad, vaulting into the saddle.

Stacy scrambled up behind him without loss of time, and they rode out into the open, the fat boy peering apprehensively over his companion’s shoulder.

“You keep watch of them, Chunky, but don’t let them see you doing it.  I won’t look at them at all.  We don’t want them to think we’re afraid.”

Stacy fidgeted.

“You bet I’ll watch ’em.  Wish I had my rifle.”

“I don’t.”

“Huh!”

“You have distinguished yourself quite enough with that rifle as it is.  We don’t want any more of your fancy shooting.”

“There they go,” warned Stacy.

“I see them.”  Tad had been cautiously observing the horsemen out of the corners of his eyes.  “Moving in the same direction we are.  I don’t like the looks of it.  Still, if they don’t get any nearer we may be thankful.”

The pony carrying the boys was walking easily, and the mounts of the Indians were doing the same.

“Jog a little,” suggested Stacy.

“That’s a good idea.  It will tell us quickly whether they are trying to keep up with us.”

He touched the pony lightly with his spurs.  The little animal switched its tail, for its sides were tender, and started off.

“There they go, Tad!  Jogging the same gait as ours!”

Tad’s face took on the stubborn look it always wore when he had determined upon a certain course of action.

“I’ll beat them yet, even if there are only two of them.  I wish there weren’t two of us on this nag.”

“I’ll get off and walk,” suggested.  Stacy.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.  That would be a nice thing to do, wouldn’t it?  They’d round you up quicker’n they could a lame burro.”

“Say, Tad.”

“What?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“You know that sage hen we had?”

“Yes, what’s that got to do with our present predicament?”

“I was wondering why there aren’t any sage roosters?”