"What do you think of that slippery customer, Abajo?" Bob asked his chum, as the afternoon waned, and they were sitting on the long porch of the ranch house.
"I've never liked him ever since he came here; but dad was in need of help, and the half-breed certainly knows his business to a dot," replied Frank, who was examining the new girth his chum had attached to his saddle, mentally deciding that whatever the young Kentuckian attempted, he did neatly and well.
"Didn't I hear something about his being a relative to that Spanish Joe who gave us so much trouble a little while back, on Thunder Mountain?" Bob continued.
"Well, I couldn't say for sure, but some say he is a nephew," Frank answered. "Both of them have Mexican blood in their veins; and, when you come to think of it, there is some resemblance in their faces."
"But do you really think Abajo was listening?" the other asked.
"It looked like it; that's as far as I've got," laughed Frank.
"But," Bob protested, "even if he knew that there was a big fortune connected with the paper this queer old professor carries on his person, what good would that do Abajo?"
Frank shrugged his broad shoulders as he replied:
"Well, you never can tell what crazy notions some of these schemers after a fortune will hatch up. He might make up his mind to start a little hunt for the hermit of Echo Cave on his own hook; with the idea of getting a transfer of that valuable paper."