“I’m going to try something else in a few minutes, now,” the guide told the Professor and the boys, “and I hope you all will do just as I tell you.”

“You may depend upon our doing exactly that,” answered the Professor.

“I am going to crawl out of here.  The rest of you remain here until I call to you to come out, no matter if it is until morning.  After I have been gone about ten minutes, light a match and toss it into the heap of sage there, but watch out that you don’t get into the light.  Throw the match.  You’re liable to be shot if you show yourselves.”

“Why should we make a fire and thus make targets of ourselves?” protested Ned.

“That is to cover Mr. Kringle’s retreat,” Tad informed them.

“Exactly.  Master Tad, you may come along with me if you wish.”

Tad jumped at the offer.

“But not a sound.  Ask me no questions.  Follow a rod or so behind me, and walk low down all the time.  If you make a mistake it may result seriously for you and your friends.  And, another thing.”

“Yes?”

“Should there be any shooting, throw yourself on the ground.  You will not be as likely to be hit there.”

“I’ll obey orders, sir.”

“I know it.”

“When do we start?”

“I guess we can do so now, as safely as at any time.  The rascals will not be likely to be on the mountain just yet, because it is not dark enough.  Yes; we’ll go now.”

Tad waited until Kris Kringle had crawled from the cave, then lay down on his stomach and wriggled out on the ledge.

There were no signs of the enemy and the camp-fire of the Pony Rider Boys glowed dimly down below.  Tad, peering off into the gloom, for the moon had not yet risen, thought he saw a figure flit by the fire.  He could not be sure, however.  He wished he might tell the guide of his fancied discovery; but, remembering the injunction for absolute silence, he said nothing.

By this time, Tad’s arms were about the log.  From the slight vibration he knew that Kris Kringle was somewhere between himself and the top, yet not a sound did the guide make.  Tad made no more, and they would have been keen ears, indeed, that could have detected our friends’ presence by sound alone.

When the lad finally reached the top a hand was laid on his shoulder.  The touch gave him a violent start in spite of his steady nerves.

“You’re all right,” whispered the voice of Kris Kringle.  “You’d make a good Indian.  I want to explain something that I didn’t wish the others to hear.”

“Yes?” whispered Tad.

“I have only one shell left in my rifle.  That’s why I wanted you to go along.  If, by any chance, the rascals should get me, you lie low.  They’ll make for the cave, as they know, by this time, that there is only one rifle in the party.  The minute they do, should such an emergency arise, slide for the camp and get your gun.  You’ll know what to do with it.  It’ll be a case of saving the lives of your companions if it comes to that.”