“And leave me behind! Not likely. No, senor, they have met with some foul play.”
“I proffer you my services and those of my Rangers,” was the prompt rejoinder, “we will set out at once.”
“But the question is, in which direction shall we go?” asked Jack, frankly bewildered.
“Wait. I will call Juan Andreas. He is the most expert tracker in the Rurales, and if there is a chance of picking up their trail, he will do it.”
Andreas proved to be a small, shrivelled Mexican on a “paint” or spotted pony. Jack saw that his eyes flashed like those of an old hunting dog, as, in obedience to his superior’s command, he slipped from his pony and began running about in the surrounding woods, crouching low, with his nose almost on the ground.
Suddenly he stopped, straightened up, and with a gesture almost regal, he raised a hand and pointed to the west.
“They go that way,” he said in Mexican.
The young officer nodded. The notes of the bugle rang out, and an instant later the camp site was once more deserted as the cavalcade dashed off through the dense woods in hot pursuit of the missing men and boys.
It is now time that we inquire for ourselves just what was happening and had happened to Ralph, Walt, Coyote Pete and the professor. After Jack had left the camp then, the professor with his geological hammer had started out to get specimens, of which he already had several pounds, much to Coyote Pete’s disgust.
He wandered down the canyon and had perhaps gone further than he intended, when suddenly he was seized from behind, his arms pinioned and the cold muzzle of a pistol pressed to the back of his neck.