"You were trailed by a spy," he declared. "The spy saw you camp here, and he has gone to bring Pacheco and the bandits. They will be here soon. If you escape, you must move without further delay."
"It not only looks like my pard," said Bushnell, hoarsely, "but it has ther voice of my pard! Ef Jack Burk is dead, thet shore is his spook!"
And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the man above vanished from view.
"Gone!" gasped Professor Scotch, wiping the cold perspiration from his face. "I never took stock in ghosts before, but now——"
"Remember his warning," cut in Frank. "We had better heed it."
"Dot vos righd," nodded Hans.
"Yes, thet's right," agreed Bushnell. "We'll git out of hyar in a howlin' hurry. Ef Jack Burk is dead, then thet wuz his spook come to warn his old pard."
There was saddling and packing in hot haste, and the little party was soon moving along the ravine.
For at least thirty minutes they hastened onward, and then the Westerner found a place where the horses could climb the sloping wall of the ravine and get out of the gorge. It was no easy task to make the animals struggle to the top, but Bushnell succeeded in forcing them all up. When the party was out of the ravine every one breathed with greater freedom.
"There," said Frank, "I do not feel as if we might be caught like rats in a trap."