"Hold my pony a moment," directed Tad, slipping to the ground.
"Where are you going?"
"Nowhere, just this minute. I'm going to look around."
The lad peered through the bushes until, uttering a low exclamation, he turned to his companion.
"I see him. He's over on the other side—"
"Who? Juan?"
"Yes. Now I want you to remain right here. Don't move away. I'll tie my pony so he won't give you any trouble. Sit perfectly quiet, and if any Indians come along don't bother them. I'm going around the outside, so I don't have to pass through the crowd, though they seem too busy to notice anyone."
Tad slipped away in the shadows until he came to a spot opposite where he had caught a glimpse of the lazy Mexican.
He discovered Juan in the center of a circle of dusky Indians who were squatting on the ground. Some of the braves were clothed in nondescript garments, while others were attired in gaudy blankets. These were the gamblers.
At that moment their efforts were concentrated on winning from Juan the wages of his first week's work with the Pony Rider Boys. A blanket had been spread over the ground, and on this they were wagering small amounts on the throw of the dice, a flickering camp-fire near by dimly lighting up the blanket and making the reading of the dice a difficult matter for any but the keenest of eyes. The sing-song calls of the players added to the weirdness of the scene.