"Say, Bud, there's not much point in this. The broncs will never go near enough for us to see anything. What say we get off and walk? I don't think there's much chance of Delton shooting at us. If we really want to find out anything we better get off these horses."
"Guess that's right," agreed Bud as his mount reared high. "Fast, though—snap to it, Nort!"
The boys turned their ponies away from the fire and rode swiftly back. They dismounted and without hesitation, ran again to the burning house. They made for the side, from where the Mexican cook had staggered out.
"There ought to be an entrance to the cellar about here," Bud panted as he ran on. "The Mex said they were down there!"
As they neared the building they saw that this was so. A small door indicated the way to the cellar. The heat was tremendous, and Nort wondered if their errand hadn't been in vain. It didn't seem possible that there living creatures were voluntarily remaining within.
Just as Nort was about to tell Bud his thought, a figure emerged and staggered toward them. It was the man who had protested at Delton's treatment of Bud when the boy had been taken, bound, to this very house. The man was in sad case. His breath was coming in sobs, and he maintained an upright position only by a supreme effort. One side of his face was badly burned.
"Help—" he gasped. "Help—men in there——"
"What is it? Speak quick!" Bud commanded. "Can't they get out? Are they in danger?'
"Trapped! Delton—in there—can't move—hit on the head——"
The next moment the man collapsed at their feet, unconscious.