“I am pleased to hear it. Are you not the gentleman called Frank Reade, Jr.?”
Frank gave a start of surprise.
“I am,” he replied, quickly, “then you have heard of me.”
“I have, Senor Reade,” replied the cowboy chief, with another exaggerated bow and smile.
“Perhaps you know of my mission here?”
“I do,” was the reply.
Frank was more amazed than words can express. What mystery was this?
How had this fellow, who bore the stamp of a Spaniard, learned of his mission to the Far West? The young inventor was staggered for a moment.
“Your mission here,” replied the cowboy chief, politely, “is to hunt down two men who you believe are guilty of a murder which they skillfully foisted upon a certain man by the name of Jim Travers.”
“You are right!” cried Frank. “But how in the name of wonder did you know that?”