Let us see what was the cause of Shep’s alarm. Just a little after the boys had left the hill to take the horses to water, the figure of a man could be seen coming stealthily out of the shadow of the pines upon the slope.
He maneuvered so that the hill was between him and Skipper Jim’s party, then he stood straight up and walked stealthily and carefully, but nevertheless swiftly, towards the camp. The man had made a slight miscalculation, for he supposed that the camp was deserted and that he could take what he wanted and destroy the rest before the boys could return. A crooked smile came over his face as he made his evil plans. He would go through the camp, take what was valuable, throw what he could not use on the campfire and as a last touch he would set fire to the tent.
Then as the tenderfeet came rushing back filled with anger and fear at the sight of the burning tent, he would easily make his escape through the darkness to the protection of the mountains, where these boys would never get him. He would have, too, his booty, which he would hide in a cave he knew of, so that he would not have to divide with his gang. It was a beautiful plan and it appealed to him in several ways.
“Those American pigs,” he said, “they think through their snouts. They do not know enough to guard their camp in this country.”
But as we know, there was something of a surprise in store for this enterprising gentleman. It is evident that he was not the same fellow that Juarez had detected skulking in the woods that morning, for this was a Mexican who was stalking the boys’ camp. He came swiftly through the grass, with a silence born of custom. It was well for him that he did, else Jo would have been on his trail in a minute.
The Greaser, for such he deserves to be called, went cautiously up the slope of the hill, following a small depression which was a watercourse during the rainstorms. When he got within two-thirds of the top, he stopped as though he had been struck, for there was the figure of Jo seated on the rock between him and the fire. For a second his jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide. Then his cunning ferocity came to him.
A tall bush and several trees intervened between him and Jo, utterly unconscious of his danger. Without a sound he crawled along, his poniard gripped between the gleam of his strong white teeth, which gave him a snarling and sinister appearance. His plan was evident. He did not dare to risk a shot, for that would give the alarm and he would have no chance for loot.
Meanwhile, Jo continued entirely unconscious of the treacherous approach of this unseen foe. Jo was not thinking of any danger and his mind was far away on an excursion of its own, dreaming of the far corners of the earth to which they would sail, if by good fortune they found the treasure of the Lost Mine.
But Jo was in an ace of taking a longer journey than any that he was at that moment dreaming of. The Mexican had got almost within striking distance of Jo and had risen to his feet, not seeing the dog, and was just drawing back his arm to throw the fatal knife when Shep gave his growl of warning at the figure he saw in the shadow back of his master.
If Jo had been careless before he made up for it now. His experience stood him in good stead, for instead of rising to his feet to confront the danger as a tenderfoot would have done, he dropped down behind the rock as quickly as a pugilist ducks his opponent’s lead. It was all that saved him. “Swish” swept the knife with a flash of steel through the air, where Jo’s body had been the second before. Jo’s pistol was in the tent on a box, but his hand, as he dropped, touched a stone. The reader perhaps remembers what an accurate shot Jo was with a ball or rock. If his memory goes back far enough he will recall what Jo did to the Apache when he was trying to sneak up on the boys’ fort in New Mexico.