"What do you suppose it could have been, Pete?" asked Jack.
"Dunno. Mexican woodpecker, maybe," grinned the cow-puncher, "or maybe a little overdose of im-ag-in-at-ion."
"I tell you I couldn't have been mistaken," exclaimed Ralph hotly. "I heard it as clearly as I hear your voice now."
At this moment the clank of the metal bar of the door falling announced that the portal was about to be opened, and they all gazed upward expectantly as the studded oak swung back. Two figures appeared. The first was that of a Mexican carrying a big tray of steaming food and a water-cooler. The other newcomer was the renegade cowboy, whom Pete had recognized the night before.
"Well, they don't mean to starve us, anyhow," said Jack, as his eyes fell on the food.
"Hum, poisoned, like as not," put in Ralph.
"I confess that I would dare even poison, such are my pangs of hunger," spoke the professor.
Pete did not say a word, but kept his eyes fixed on the renegade cow-puncher.
"Nice business you're in, Jim Cummings," he growled. "Since when have you become a cattle-rustling, tamale-eating greaser?"