"Two boys bound for Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon," he answered, not wishing to take any unnecessary chances.
"Where from, and what's your names?" continued the other, in his commanding voice, that somehow told Frank he must be one accustomed to demanding obedience.
The ranch boy no longer felt any uneasiness. He believed that these men were not to be feared.
"I am the son of Colonel Haywood, owner of the Circle Ranch; and this is my chum, Bob Archer, a Kentucky boy," he said, boldly.
Then the other man, who as yet had not spoken, took occasion to remark:
"'Taint them, after all, Stanwix! Perhaps we've been following the wrong trail."
The name gave Frank an idea. He had heard more or less about the doings of a sheriff in a neighboring county, called Yavapai, and his name was the same as that mentioned by the second dimly seen rider.
"Are you gentlemen from Prescott?" he asked.
"That's where I hold out when I'm home," replied the one who had asked about their identity.
"Are you Sheriff Stanwix?" pursued the boy, while his companion almost held his breath in suspense.