As nothing toward finding Mr. Duncan could then be done, Joe and Blake kept on toward the Indian country. A cowboy, Hank Selby, offered to accompany them, and they were glad he did.
They had many adventures before getting on the track of the Indians, and when they found them in a secret valley, and, concealed in a cave, began taking moving pictures, they discovered, as I have said, four white men in danger of torture.
How they rescued them, how the troopers came, and how one turned out to be Bill Duncan, Joe’s half-uncle, I have mentioned in this book as well as in the second volume. And, on their way back to Big B ranch and to Flagstaff, the night attack had taken place.
“How are you making out, Blake?” asked Joe, as he worked at stacking up the boxes and bales into a sort of rude breastwork near the shelter tents.
“All right, Joe,” was the answer. “I hope Hank makes the animals safe.”
“He doesn’t seem to be having much trouble. I can’t see any of the Indians now.”
“No, they’re probably hiding down in the grass, waiting for a chance to make a raid. I wonder how many there are?”
“Quite a bunch, I should say, from the shooting. Here comes Hank now.”
As he spoke, the cowboy appeared, leading by their long tether ropes the riding ponies and the pack animals. The steeds showed signs of their recent excitement. Had it not been for the alarm they gave they might have been stolen without our friends being any the wiser.
“See any of ’em, Hank?” questioned Joe.