"Cavallo, señor. One, two, t'ree horse over heel."
"Oh, over the hill, are they?" said Jack to himself, then aloud: "You come and show them to me."
"Mocho easy to find," protested the Mexican.
Jack smiled to himself. He had been right, then. The old man was trying to trick him. Assuming a sterner air, he thundered out,
"Tell me where these horses are or I'll kill you!"
The threat proved effectual, as Jack had hoped it would. Dropping all his attempts at subterfuge, the Mexican told the boy that the horses were in a gully not a hundred feet from the house. On the Mexican being escorted there, still with the pistol held close to his head, his words were found to be true.
Three horses, ready saddled and bridled, stood in the gulch, apparently reserved for the use of any one about the camp who should need them in a hurry.
This much ascertained, Jack marched the Mexican back to the hut, where, with a rope, he leisurely proceeded to bind him. Then, amid the fellow's tears and supplications—for he evidently thought he was about to be killed—the boy marched him to the river bank. Walt and Ralph were naturally bubbling over with questions, but they said nothing as Jack sternly ordered the aged Mexican to board the boat.
There were more prayers and tears, but finally the shriveled old chap got on board, and the boys shoved him off. The current rapidly bore him off down the stream and presently he vanished between the two points of land through which the river made its way out of the basin.
"Well, he's off for a good, long ride," said Jack, as with howls and yells from its passenger the boat vanished from view.