"It's your own game," muttered Tracy, turning away.
"I see you have dropped two of those chaps."
"Yes."
Revolver in hand, Frank walked out toward the spot where the two figures lay. He was followed by Crowfoot and several others.
The first man was stone-dead.
The next proved to be the Mexican, Pinto Pede, who was sorely wounded.
"That cursed greaser!" growled one of the men. "Give me lief to finish him, Mr. Merriwell!"
He placed the muzzle of a pistol against Pede's head.
Frank knew that a word from him would send the Mexican into eternity.