"Great Scott, Jack, how different you look. What a peach of a get-up."
The Temples, father and son, and Frank Merrick stood on the gravel-bed outside the little wooden box doing duty as station at Ransome, New Mexico. The transcontinental flier which had dropped them, was dwindling in the distance. Jack Hampton, whom the chums and Mr. Temple had crossed the country from New York to join, was in the center of the group. Greetings had been exchanged, they had all slapped each other on the back indiscriminately and enthusiastically, and now Bob Temple stood off at arm's length to admire his chum.
"Yes, sir. Some get-up," he added.
"Righto," agreed Frank, also gazing at the handsome Jack admiringly. "Where do you get 'em? Lead me to the store right away."
Jack, who was 19 and the oldest of the three chums, was almost as tall as the six-foot Bob, but of more slender build than that gridiron warrior. He had the build of a thoroughbred, long legs, flat hips, trim waist, deep chest and broad shoulders and a flat back. Both at dashes and distance running Jack easily was supreme at Harrington Hall Military Academy, which all three boys attended. Like Bob he was fair and had curling chestnut hair. His eyes were blue and lively, his features not too regular. Altogether, he was a striking figure.
Today he was dressed in khaki shirt and breeches. Instead of puttees he wore high, laced leather boots that reached to his knees. On his head, pushed back so that his wavy hair showed in front, was a wide-brimmed sombrero. By his side, suspended from a cartridge belt, swung an automatic revolver in its holster. This was the outfit so admired by his chums from the East, trim in their light-weight summer suits of the latest cut and wearing low tan shoes more adapted for city streets than for the sands stretching inimitably on every hand.
"We've worried considerably while aboard the train, Jack," said Mr. Temple, "for fear something dire might happen to you these last two or three days. I'm glad to see you are all right. Any word from your father?"
Jack shook his head in negation. "Not a word," said he, "since those two rascals picked him up in your airplane and headed for Old Mexico."
"Well, don't worry, Jack," said Mr. Temple. "I don't believe his life is in danger."
"I'm trying not to worry, sir," said Jack. "But now that you and the fellows are here, we shall have to get busy at once. It has been pretty hard to wait for you. I wanted to ride into Old Mexico myself at once."