The howls of the colored boy ended in a gurgle.
"Shoot!" commanded Grace. "Shoot high! Empty your rifle!"
Both girls let go a rattling fire with their rifles, and the howls and the shots brought the others of their party tumbling and shouting from their tents.
"Down! Quiet!" commanded Grace. "Let no one shoot without orders, unless in an emergency. I am going out there."
"Better not," advised Miss Briggs.
"I must. You know I must. If they have harmed that boy—Well, you know the answer. Keep them quiet."
With only her revolver, Grace crept around the outer edge of the camp, making every movement with extreme care, pausing now and then to listen. It was her opinion that the disturbers had left, but she was too old a campaigner to take that for granted, and never for an instant relaxed her caution.
The Overland girl reached the far end of the camp without incident. She crept to the tent where the colored boy slept and found it empty. There was no trace, that she was able to discover in the dark, to indicate what had happened to him. Not satisfied with what she had already accomplished, Grace crept further out along the trail, revolver in hand, eyes and ears keenly on the alert.
Finally she turned campwards.
"They have got the boy," she announced, coming up from the rear of the tents, and approaching her companions from behind. All were sitting on the ground, silent, expectant, waiting, either for Grace's return or a burst of revolver fire. Their nerves jumped from the reaction when Grace spoke to them.