He broke off abruptly. Undoubtedly from the litter and the still smoking embers upon which they had just that minute stumbled they must be at the site of the camp. But where were the lad’s companions?
Had the earth swallowed them they could not have vanished more completely, nor did a painstaking search by the Rangers reveal any clue as to their whereabouts or the manner of their departure.
CHAPTER XVIII.
BLACK RAMON’S TRICKERY.
“This looks like some of that rascal Ramon’s work!”
Jack paused in the fruitless search and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
The officer of the Rangers, whose name was Antonio Del Rio, carefully rolled a brown paper cigarette and lighted it before he glanced up at the troubled young countenance before him.
“I think you are right, senor. During your absence he and his band must have surprised the camp and carried your amigos off as prisoners, that is, unless they themselves have taken to the trail.”