The two boys half carried Mr. Ranger around to the rear of an immense boulder that bordered the trail. Then Jack ran hack and caught up the rifle. He had just time enough to spring hack of the rock when the riders swept fully into view. Jack leveled the rifle over the top of the big stone and cried:
"Don't come any nearer or I'll shoot!"
The riders pulled up in confusion.
"Go ahead!" cried those in the rear,
"He's got the drop on us!" exclaimed those in front.
Jack held the rifle steady. For several seconds there was an intense strain. Mr. Ranger was resting his head on Nat's knee, panting for breath.
"You'll—find—some medicine—in—my pocket," he gasped, and Nat, searching where the sick man indicated, found a small bottle of white pills. He gave Mr. Ranger one, and, in a few seconds the color came back to the sufferer's pale face.
Now there was a movement among the horsemen. Some of them rode back on the trail, while others dismounted and went to the left and right.
"They're going to surround us," Jack thought. "I guess it's all up with us!"
He kept close watch of the men he could see. Those directly in front of him remained on their horses.