"He said it was prospectors he was taking those supplies to, didn't he; and that he'd been doing the same a long while?"
"That was about the size of it, Bob," returned his chum, thoughtfully.
"Well," Bob went on, "between you and me, Frank, I'd rather believe little Lopez was in touch with the rustlers. I mentioned that word just on purpose to see if he would turn red, or give himself away."
"And did he?" asked the other, quickly.
"Well," replied Bob, "not so you could notice; but then he seemed such a smart chap, like as not he knew how to hide his feelings. He looked frightened when we talked of wanting him to stay with us. Mark me, there's a heap of mystery bound up in that little fellow."
"He sure puzzles me, all right," remarked Frank. "Did you notice how he had a silk handkerchief bound around his head, regular Mex fashion?"
"Sure I did," laughed Bob, without glancing up, as he used his knife industriously after the fashion set by his chum. "And I also took notice that he had a fine, glossy bunch of hair under that same colored silk bandana."
"Great governor!" ejaculated Frank, suddenly.
"What's the matter—you didn't cut yourself, I hope?" demanded his comrade, uneasily, starting up.
"Shucks! no. Something just struck me, that's all," replied Frank, with an air of disgust, and a quick look up the gully where the little Mexican had last been seen.