"You stay at the camp, Buck!" called Bud to the Zuni, as the three boy ranchers mounted and prepared to ride up to where the unknown man had collapsed after Bud had fired. "You stick around! Old Billee, or some of the boys from Diamond X may ride over, though I don't expect them until morning. Stay here, Buck!"
"Me stick!" gutturally answered the Indian. "You catchum man mebby—git back water."
"Maybe," agreed Bud, as he and his cousins trotted off up the trail, which wound around the reservoir and over the mountain.
Dusk was falling as the boys reached the vicinity of the place whence they had seen the lone rider emerge from the bushes, spurring his horse up the rocky trail that led over Snake Mountain, as the whole ridge was known.
"Must have been about here," said Dick, as he reined in his steed, for which the panting animal, doubtless, was grateful.
"Little farther on, I think," said his brother.
"No, it was right here," declared Bud, as he dismounted and began to scan the ground. "Here's where his horse slipped," and he pointed to the tell-tale marks on the trail.
"Yes, and look—you hit him all right!" added Dick.
He indicated some dull, red spots on the stones. Bud reached down and gingerly touched them.
"Blood!" he murmured. "Guess I did wing him—or the horse—but I don't see how I could. I fired high."