The boys gazed at Professor Zepplin in well-feigned amazement.

"Oh, Professor!" groaned Ned. "Is it possible that you are getting

frisky? It's this mountain air. I am beginning to feel like a

yearling colt myself."

The Professor looked his disgust.

"You are mistaken, young man," he interrupted. "I know no more about

it than do--"

"Than do I," finished Ned.

"That was what I was about to say, but I hardly think that would be

correct. Now if you gentlemen will be good enough to see what has

happened to those tents, and put them back, we may be able to get a

wink or so of sleep before morning."

"Surely, you don't think I would do a trick like that, Professor?"

demanded Ned indignantly.

"I am not saying. I am making no accusations, neither am I declaring

any particular individual's innocence," was the stiff retort.

"Why don't you blame me, while you are about it?" grumbled Stacy. "I

can stand most anything now. I've been chased out of bed by a ghost,

shot at by a spook, hauled out of bed by the ankles by a band of

gnomes, and--"

"Well, what else?" urged Tad.

"Thrown down by a bunch of Veal."

"Awful, awful!" groaned Ned. "Positively the most sickening pun I

ever heard. Chops, did you see any spooks?"

"Nassir, yassir."

"Where?"

"Right dar, sah."

"In front of your tent?"

"Nassir, yassir."

"Now, Chops, what did this particular spook look like?" interjected

the Professor.

"Look awful, sah!"

Already Tad Butler was busy replacing the overturned tents. Walter

assisted in the operation.

"Say, Tad, do you know who did this thing?" he inquired.

"I could make an excellent guess," grinned Butler.

"Do you know, I believe it was either the Professor or Ned."

"Better tell the Professor what you think," suggested Tad.

"Oh, I shouldn't dare to do that," protested Walter.

"We usually say what we think in this outfit. Oh, Professor!"

"What is it, Tad?"

"Did you know we had a visitor in this camp tonight?"

"From the evidences at hand I should say we had had several of them."

"I don't mean it in that way. I am not saying that the disturbance

here tonight was caused by any outside agency. Chunky is sure he saw

a ghost. Maybe he did. Chops knows he saw a spook and I, too, saw

something that disturbed me a little."

"What do you mean?" demanded the Professor, fixing a keen gaze on the

face of Tad Butler.

"There was a strange man in this camp tonight."

"Was--was he the ghost-man?" stammered Chunky.

"He may have been, though I doubt it."

"Was he the fellow who tied one end of the rope to my ankles and the

other end to Chops's ankles so that we would slide on our noses and

skate on our wishbones when we tried to walk?"

"No, I think not."

"Who did it, then?"

"Why, I thought you had decided that the ghost did it?" laughed Tad.

Chunky regarded his companion solemnly.

"Tad Butler, you're a fraud," whispered the fat boy. "What I won't

do to you will be good and plenty. You're the ghost. You're the one

who tied me to Chops. You're the one who shot off the gun. You're

the one who tore down the house that Chops built. You're the--"

"Oh, that's plenty," answered Tad with a laugh.

"Do you admit it?"

"Of course I don't."

"Do you deny it, then?" insisted the fat boy.

"In the language of the guide, 'yassir, nassir.'"

"I'm wise to you," declared Stacy, after regarding his companion

searchingly.

"Look out!" warned Tad. "You are talking slang again."

"I don't care. It takes strong language to fit this case."

"Now please explain your remark of a few moments ago, Tad," requested

Professor Zepplin.

"I don't know that I can explain it," returned Tad.

"You saw something?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"What did you see?"

"As I came out I saw a man dart out of the camp. He fell over the

rope just to the right of the tree there at your back. Perhaps we

may be able to find his trail."

Taking a brand from the fire, Tad stepped over to the spot he had

indicated and holding the torch down near the ground nodded to his

companions who had pressed up close to the rope.

"The bushes certainly are broken down there," declared Ned.

"Maybe that's where the Professor tried to turn a somersault,"

suggested Stacy.

"What were you trying to do, Professor?" chuckled Ned.

"We will leave that for future discussion," answered Professor

Zepplin dryly. "Someone surely has been floundering about here, that

is a fact."

"This is where I saw him fall," affirmed Tad.

"Tad, what sort of person was he? How did he look?" questioned the

Professor.

"I was unable to see. It was too dark here."

"Maybe it was the ghost," suggested Stacy.

"Ghosts do not leave such a broad trail as this," answered Tad.

"One of them did tonight," answered the fat boy suggestively, whereat

Tad Butler grinned.

"I don't like this at all," mused the Professor. "We must keep watch

every night hereafter. Have you any suspicion that the mysterious

visitor played the trick on us?"

"No, sir, he did not," replied Tad soberly.

The Professor eyed Tad reflectively, then asked no more questions

along this line. Tad, taking a fresh brand, followed the trail away

from the camp, the others of the party bringing up the rear. Tad was

recognized as the best trailer among them, so the work of following

this trail was left wholly to him.

They had proceeded away from the camp in a southwesterly direction

for a full quarter of a mile when Tad halted. Swinging his torch

from one side to the other he finally fixed upon a certain spot.

Looking up at his companions he nodded.

"Here is the place," he declared enigmatically.

"What place?" questioned Chunky, crowding in.

"The place where the visitor tethered his horse. And if you will

look just to the left of Ned Rector, you will discover something

else."

The Pony Rider Boys uttered exclamations of amazement. There a

little to Ned's left lay a battered sombrero.

"Somebody was here," breathed the Professor.

"Yes!" cried Tad. "I know who that somebody was, too," he shouted

triumphantly, dropping down on his knees with face so close to the

ground that Chunky wanted to know if Tad were going to eat grass.

CHAPTER XVII

PROSPECTORS IN THE HILLS

"No, I am not," answered Tad, "but I am going to tell you who our

late caller was. We have seen him before."

"Who--what?" cried the Professor.

"He was one of the two men who assaulted us yesterday."

"Are you sure, Tad?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure of it," answered Butler, gazing at the ground

reflectively.

"But how do you know?"

"One of the two ponies those men had, had a broken shoe on the off

hind foot. The horse that was tethered here had a shoe that was

broken, and the broken shoe was on the off hind foot also. As nearly

as I can remember, the shoe was broken in exactly the same place that

this one is. It seems to me like a pretty clear case against these

fellows. What do you think, Professor?"

"Indisputable evidence, I should say. You did not observe anything

familiar about the man, you say?"

"No, sir."

"Those rascals mean mischief. That is certain."

"They can't do us any harm unless they try to take a pot shot at us

when we aren't looking, which I hardly think they will do," ventured

Butler. "They aren't desperate enough. But I should like to know

what the motive is underneath it all."

"I can't help but think that in some way they are connected with

Griffin," asserted Ned.

"Yes, that may be," agreed Professor Zepplin.

"Do you wish me to follow the trail, Professor?" asked Tad, glancing

up.

"No, I think not. It would be likely to prove a fruitless chase."

"That is my opinion too."

The party now slowly retraced its way to camp. In speculating about

the greater mystery they appeared to have forgotten the recent

ghostly disturbances in the camp, though it was pretty generally

understood that the latter incidents were due to a prank of one of

the boys. That one boy, as the reader already surmises, was Tad

Butler. Tad had evened his score with the fat boy for all the

latter's pranks on him and the others, and Stacy knew it. The fat

boy was shrewd. He said no more about his fright, but Tad observed

that Stacy frequently cast reproachful glances in his direction.

Tad remained on watch for the rest of the night. They made an early

start on the following morning, and, as on the previous day's

journeyings, they found rough going all the way, with great rocks

towering high above them, cut here and there by frequent deep, gloomy

canyons.

About noon of this day as they were slowly riding through one of the

rifts in the mountains, they pulled up sharply at a signal from Tad.

"What is it?" demanded the Professor, realizing that Butler had made

a discovery.

Tad pointed ahead of them. The Professor gazed in the direction

indicated.

"Fog?" he asked.

"I think not. It looks to me like smoke," answered the Pony Rider

Boy.

"Who, Smoke Griffin?" piped Stacy in a loud voice.

"No, just plain smoke. And if you please, don't speak so loudly,"

admonished Tad.

"Hm-m-m. What would you suggest?" asked the Professor.

"I would suggest that we climb the side of the canyon," said Chunky

with emphasis.

"On the contrary, we will go straight ahead," replied Tad with a firm

compression of the lips.

"It may be our enemies who are waiting for us," suggested Rector.

"I hope it is," answered Tad.

"Yes, so do I. I rather think I shall have something to say to those

gentlemen when next I have an opportunity to speak with them," added

Professor Zepplin grimly.

Tad touched his pony with the spur. The party moved on, no one

speaking, each instinctively looking to his weapons, though they had

little idea that they would have use for firearms. Every face wore a

serious expression, every boy was wondering what they should find at

the source of the smoke.

They came upon that source in a sharp bend of the canyon and brought

up short. Three men who had been sitting about a campfire cooking

their dinner sprang up with hands on their revolvers, but which they

did not draw from the holsters. Tad and Professor Zepplin rode

slowly forward, the men standing by the fire, gazing with suspicious

eyes at the visitors. All three were strangers. None of the party

of Pony Rider Boys had ever seen the men before.

"Howdy!" greeted Tad, swinging a hand in greeting.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," said the Professor.

From a tent near the campfire a dog came out, barking furiously.

"Who are you?" demanded one, who acted as spokesman for the three men.

"We are a party out for a trip, for pleasure as well as health,"

answered the Professor.

"Known as the Pony Rider Boys," added Tad. "Might we ask who you

gentlemen are?"

"My name's Jim Dunkan. That's Sam Ellison, and the other is Tom

Royal. Will you get off and have a snack with us?"

"Thank you. It is a pleasure to see a friendly face once more. We

will accept your invitation if you will permit us to use our own

supplies. Perhaps you gentlemen have not had access to fresh

supplies and need all you have," suggested the Professor.

"Well, we are a little short, that's a fact, sir. Introduce your

party if you want to. If you don't, you don't have to," was the

reply.

"There is no reason why I should not. I am Professor Zepplin, in

charge of the party. These young men are Thaddeus Butler, Ned Rector,

Walter Perkins and Stacy Brown--"

"Otherwise known as the good thing of this outfit," added Stacy

solemnly. The mountaineers laughed at the fat boy's funny face.

"Glad to meet you, fellows," greeted the men, stepping forward and

shaking hands cordially all round. "Come far?"

"We are all from Missouri," answered Tad laughingly.

"Then I reckon you'll have to be shown a few things," grinned Dunkan.

"We have been," answered Stacy.

The boys by this time had dismounted and were tethering their horses

while the mountaineers looked on curiously.

"You younkers 'pear mighty handy. Guess you aren't tenderfeet,"

observed Sam Ellison.

"Not exactly, sir," answered Butler. "We have been riding the

mountains and plains for a few seasons."

"Do you gentlemen live in these parts?" asked the Professor, seating

himself by the fire.

"No. We're up here prospecting."

"Ah! Gold?"

Dunkan nodded briefly.

"I discovered some indications of gold yesterday," announced the

Professor.

The men were interested at once. They asked many questions which the

Professor answered freely. When they learned that he was a geologist,

among his other accomplishments, the men thawed instantly.

"Maybe you wouldn't mind looking at some pay dirt for us?" questioned

Tom Royal.

"I should be glad to serve you in any way possible," replied the

Professor cordially. "Have you struck anything yet?"

"We don't know. We may have. Of course we've found evidences, but

whether it's real pay dirt or not we don't know."

"Yes, I came to the conclusion, after analyzing the rock I found,

that gold could not be extracted from it in anything like paying

quantities. Are there many others in here on similar quests?"

Royal said no.

"There are those here who, I reckon, have found some stuff, though,"

declared Dunkan.

"Yes?" replied the Professor, glancing at the speaker inquiringly.

Tad caught the significance of the remark and fixed his eyes on Jim

Dunkan.

"Others, sir?" ventured Tad.

"Chops, you get the dinner going at once," directed Professor Zepplin.

"I think these gentlemen would like some bacon. We have an excellent

blend of coffee, gentlemen. Make a large pot, guide."

"Yassir," promised Chops.

"As I was saying," continued Dunkan, "there are others here who

appear to have struck it rich. That is, there's one, but I don't

know how many more are behind him."

"May I ask who the man is?" inquired the Professor.

"His name is Jay Stillman." The speaker frowned as he pronounced the

name.

"What sort of looking man is Stillman?" asked Tad.

Dunkan described the man, whereat Tad and the Professor exchanged

significant looks.

"Do you know the critter?" demanded Jim suspiciously.

"We think we have seen him, sir," replied Tad. "Why?"

"I reckon you aren't friends of his?"

"Far from it," declared the Professor with emphasis. "If he is the

man we think from your description, we should like an opportunity to

turn him over to a sheriff."

Dunkan grinned broadly.

"I reckon they're on the right side, fellows," he said, nodding to

his companions. "What's he been doing to you?"

"Here is the dinner," answered the Professor. "Suppose we discuss

that?"

"Right you are, pardner. Say that coffee does smell good."

"Yes, I poured the water on it," Stacy informed them.

"You can stay here and pour water on our coffee all the time, if you

want to," answered Sam.

"No, thank you. I am a lion hunter, not a coffee boy."

"You get away with it in pretty good shape even if you're not a

coffee boy," averred Dunkan.

"Oh, there's a lot about Stacy Brown that you will learn before you

have known him long," spoke up Ned.

"Yes, I'm a mine of good things," admitted Chunky as modestly as he

could.

"Now about this man Stillman?" suggested the Professor.

"Yes, sir, we should like to know what his game is," said Tad.

"His game?" repeated Jim.

"Yes, sir."

"I didn't know he had any game in particular."

"He tried to drive us back. He must have had a motive else he would

not have done that," declared Tad.

"Just pure meanness," answered Dunkan. "He wants it all to himself.

He doesn't want anybody else fooling around in the mountains here.

He's taking up all the land he can get hold of, and I guess he reckons

on getting a fortune out of it. Why he had a man from the city up

here the other day and the fellow told a man I know that there was

gold enough in these hills to buy the earth."

Professor Zepplin glared at the speaker.

"Very interesting, indeed. Then you think he has no other motive in

desiring to keep persons away from here?"

"What other motive could he have?"

"I am sure I do not know."

"I will wager that there is another motive that you gentlemen do not

know anything about," spoke up Tad.

"What makes you think that?" questioned Ellison.

"Everything seems to point that way, and if he bothers us any more I

shall make it my business to find out."

The prospectors laughed good-naturedly.

"You better let that job out. Jay Stillman isn't the man for boys to

fool with," advised Dunkan.

Professor Zepplin bristled.

"I guess you gentlemen do not know my young men."

"I think I do," spoke up Ellison. "They've got the look of the real

stuff about them. Can you shoot?"

"Well, some," admitted Tad.

"We can run, too," volunteered Stacy.

"Especially when there's a ghost after you," sneered Ned.

"Have you seen either of these men of late?" asked the Professor.

"Sam saw Stillman yesterday and told him to mosey out of this or we'd

be finding out what he was doing around our diggings."

"Who is the other man who is with him?"

"I don't know," answered Dunkan.

"Why, that must have been Joe Batts," suggested Ellison. "Batts is

about the worst ever. I wouldn't dare turn my back to him if he had

any reason for wanting to get rid of me."

"An excellent reputation, most excellent, you are giving these men,"

smiled the Professor.

"Is he anything like his name?" piped Chunky.

"How's that?"

"Batty--like a bat, you know," explained Stacy.

Professor Zepplin admonished the fat boy with a stern glance, which

Chunky pretended not to see.

"Do they ever bother you here in your camp or at your work?" asked

Ned.

"Well, I reckon not," drawled Dunkan. "In the daytime they are

afraid of our guns. In the night the dog is looking after things

here."

"Where do they live?" interrupted Butler.

"Stillman has a shack near one of the Smoky Bald's gulches. He isn't

there very much, I guess. I don't know where Joe lives. I guess

anywhere he can find a place soft enough to lie on," answered Dunkan

with a grin. "Say, you folks better make camp here with us and kind

of make this a headquarters, hadn't you?"

"What do you say, boys?" questioned Professor Zepplin.

"We might remain here until tomorrow," agreed Tad. "Mr. Dunkan wants

you to make some tests for him, he says."

"All right, boys," agreed the Professor.

The lads sprang up and began opening their packs, and in a few

moments their tents were being pitched, the miners watching them with

interested gaze as the odd little tents went up.

"Well, doesn't that beat all?" wondered Ellison. "I never saw

anything quite like that outfit before. Where'd you get them?"

"Mr. Butler invented those tents," answered the Professor proudly.

"Then Mr. Butler's all right," smiled the miner.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE CAMP SUFFERS A LOSS

All the rest of the afternoon Professor Zepplin was absorbed in

examining rocks, specimens of ore, and dirt. He was deep in

consultation with Dunkan and the others of the prospectors.

"Yes, there are strong indications here, but thus far I have found

nothing that would pay," said the Professor. "The sample you say you

got from Stillman Gulch is the best of all. It is, I might say, most

promising. Is that where the other man claims to have found pay

dirt?"

"Somewhere in that vicinity. We don't know the exact location."

"Are you trying to locate a vein of ore, too?" questioned the

Professor.

"Sure we are. It's anybody's gold. Of course we don't follow him

and spy on him. We aren't that kind of cattle. But we'll find it

prospecting if we find it at all, and then you'll see music in these

parts."

"I understand there are gems in these mountains."

"Yes, they've been found. Here's an amethyst I picked up a week

ago."

The Professor, after examining the stone, became enthusiastic. He

pronounced it an exceptionally fine specimen.

"If, sir, you are able to pick up such stones as this on this Ridge

why do you waste your time in seeking for gold?"

"That's just the trick, Professor. We can't."

"But surely they must be here. This one shows evidence of having

been wrenched from its original resting place and hurled some

distance."

Dunkan gazed at the Professor reflectively.

"By Hickey, I believe you're right at that. It gives me a new idea.

I'll go to that place and hunt until either I find something or I

don't."

"Do so, by all means. Those boys of mine will help you."

"Let them, but if they find anything it belongs to them. Jim Dunkan

hasn't got any claim on anything in these hills unless he finds it

for himself. We'll be getting back now."

It was a jolly evening spent around the campfire of the prospectors.

Stories were told, Chops was induced to sing a song, the boys related

interesting stories of their experiences on their various journeys,

then all hands turned in well satisfied with their day and their

evening.

The Pony Rider Boys slept soundly. But late in the night there came

an interruption--a rush of the prospectors' collie dog. The animal,

tied to a tree, began to bark and strain at its leash. Just before

the men turned out to see what the trouble was, the collie broke its

leash and dashed away into the bushes, barking furiously. They heard

the animal snarling. A yelp followed, then a chorus of explosive

barks. The dog's barking ceased suddenly.

"I reckon he's chasing some animal," said Dunkan.

"It didn't sound like that to me," replied Tad, still listening

intently. "Of course you know the dog better than do I. Does he

bark at every sound?"

"Pretty near," grinned Sam.

"Yes, he usually wakes us up once a night, sometimes more," added Tom

Royal. "Reckon we might as well go back to bed."

Jim whistled for the dog. He kept whistling for several minutes,

then turned back toward their tent disgustedly.

"He's got on the trail of something and gone beyond sound," he

muttered. "He'll be back here in the morning."

"I hope so," muttered Tad.

"See here, you've got something in your mind, younker!" demanded

Dunkan.

"Nothing except that I don't believe your collie was chasing an

animal. I know a dog's bark well enough to know when he's on the

trail of an animal. That bark and growl wasn't like any

animal-chasing growl I ever heard."

"All right, sonny, we'll see who's right," smiled Jim, turning to his

tent. "Night."

"Good-night," answered Butler. "He will see whether I am right or

not in the morning. I am going to find out something for myself in

the morning, too. I don't believe those men are very good

mountaineers, though they may be most excellent prospectors."

Tad went to sleep and slept soundly until break of day when he was up

and about. Dunkan's first inquiry upon getting up, was as to whether

the collie had returned.

The collie had not. The broken rope with which he had been tethered

before breaking away still hung from the stake.

"Well, kid, I reckon you were right about the dog's not coming back,"

announced Dunkan, his face troubled and anxious.

"I didn't say he would not come back, did I? What I tried to tell

you, was that he wasn't chasing an animal."

"Well, he was. If he hadn't been, he'd been back in this camp hours

ago. He's got mixed up in his trail, but I reckon he'll be along

when he gets ready. I'm not going to worry about the dog, though I'd

rather lose anything I've got than to lose him."

"You're wrong all around, Mr. Dunkan," asserted Tad confidently.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"How d'ye know?"

"Because if you will look out yonder in the bushes you will find the

trail of the man he was following," replied Tad gravely.

Tad's calm announcement startled everyone in camp. Even Chops paused

with frying pan held aloft to listen to the further words of the

keen-eyed Pony Rider Boy.

"What's that you say?" demanded Sam Ellison.

"Your dog chased a man away from here last night."

"How--how do you know?" stammered Jim.

"Because I saw the trail this morning."

"Where?"

"Right there. It begins with the dog's tracks, which, after a little

way, are mixed up with that of the man he was after."

Dunkan eyed Tad keenly to see if the boy was joking. Tad Butler most

certainly was not joking. He had never been more serious in his life.

"Show it to me," commanded Dunkan. The prospector's voice was calm,

but there was a menace in it.

Without a word Tad led the way to the edge of the camp ground, where

he pointed to the footprints of the dog, faintly discernible on the

soft turf. Tad kept right on until he had gone some ten rods from

the camp, whereupon he halted and pointed again.

"What do you make of that, Mr. Dunkan?" he asked.

"Man's tracks, as I'm alive," muttered the prospector, after a careful

examination of the trail as indicated by Tad.

"Yes, and the man had been standing here for some time. If you will

look a little farther you will find that he started to walk away,

then broke into a run. The dog was pressing him rather too closely

for comfort. At this point the dog began running faster than before.

I know that because from this point the collie left only the faintest

footprints, showing that he was barely touching the ground with his

feet."

CHAPTER XIX

BUTLER MAKES A DISCOVERY

"Well, if that doesn't beat all!" marveled Royal.

"It certainly does," agreed Ellison.

"Yes, but that isn't finding the dog," growled Dunkan. "Boys, we've

got to find that collie, and what's more, we've got to find the man

he was chasing. The fellow probably took the dog with him. He must

have wanted a pup mighty bad to take those chances to get one."

"Do--do they hang dog thieves down in this country?" questioned Stacy

apprehensively.

"We aren't saying what we'll do," observed Dunkan.

"You've got to find the dog first," nodded Stacy.

"You're right, young man. Get your guns, fellows. We'll follow this

trail right smart."

"I do not think it will be of any use," Tad informed them.

"Why won't it? Don't you think we know how to run a trail?"

"I haven't the least doubt of it," answered Tad with a smile.

"Then what's the matter with you?" demanded Dunkan almost savagely.

"Oh, there's nothing the matter with me. I am trying to help you,

that's all."

"Shake, pard. I didn't mean to be edgewise with you. I'm mad plumb

through over that dog business. You're the smartest youngster I've

ever come up with and I'll take off my hat to you when I get it on

again."

"Here, I'll lend you mine," offered Stacy, reaching his own sombrero

toward the prospector.

"I shake my own bonnet, not the other fellow's," grinned Jim. The

others laughed at the fat boy's drollery.

"Why do you say there is no need to follow the trail, Tad?" spoke up

Professor Zepplin at this juncture.

"For the good reason that there is no trail to follow," was Tad's

brief reply.

The party did not understand what he meant by that, and Dunkan asked

him to explain.

"I have run the trail out," announced Butler. "Some twenty rods from

here the trail practically ends."

"How can that be?" interjected Sam.

"It is all hard rocks there for some distance and not a tree, hardly

a shrub. The fellow went straight up the rocks. I know this because

he trampled down a berry vine when he climbed up the rocks. That is

the end of the trail. He may have gone in any direction from that

point. I followed out several leads, but they came to nothing. I am

sure that I should be able to pick up the trail somewhere were I to

spend enough time at it. I will try it after breakfast if you want

me to. Breakfast is getting cold. We'd better get back."

"Shake, pard," exclaimed Dunkan, extending an impulsive hand.

"You're the real thing. Nothing make-believe about you. The way

you've puzzled out this trail business beats me. I'm pretty fair at

it myself, but I'm not even a pussy-willow shadow to you."

"Did you hear about the three-legged rat and our black cat?" bubbled

Stacy.

"No, I didn't. It isn't rats and cats, but dogs, in which we're

interested at the present minute. We'll go back for some chuck. In

the meantime we'll chew over it," said Dunkan.

"Over the chuck?" asked Stacy.

"I reckon," grinned the prospector. "And the dog, too."

"I'm no Chinaman," objected the fat boy.

"Very strange, very strange," declared the Professor, glaring from

one to another of them.

"A friend of mine lost a valuable Pomeranian in a somewhat similar

manner a year ago and--"

"I ate a whole one of those once," chuckled Chunky.

"You ate a whole Pomeranian?" questioned Tad.

"Yes, yes," bubbled the fat boy. "And I had a stomach-ache for a

week afterwards."

"Professor, Stacy says he ate a whole Pomeranian once," jeered Tad.

"What, what's that?" bristled the Professor.

"I did," insisted Chunky.

"What, you ate a Pomeranian dog?" cried the horrified Walter Perkins.

"A dog?" shouted Stacy.

"Yes, a Pomeranian's a dog, you boob," replied Tad, shaking with

laughter.

"A dog? Oh, I thought you were talking about a cheese."

Prospectors and Pony Rider Boys joined in a roar at the expense of

the fat boy. Professor Zepplin's eyes twinkled, but his face was

stern. He enjoyed the jokes of his boys fully as much as did they,

and this whether the joke was at his expense or at the expense of

another.

"But what do you make of this disappearance of the collie, Mr.

Dunkan?" asked the Professor when they were well started with the

breakfast.

"I don't make anything out of it."

"Is it possible that the dog continued to follow the man?"

"Yes, it might be, but he'd caught the fellow before he got to the

ledge that Butler told us about. That dog is a streak of greased

electricity when he gets headed for anything."

"That's the way Chunky goes to his meals," nodded Rector.

"I notice I'm usually about ten paces behind you," retorted the fat

boy.

"You men go on with your work after breakfast. I am going to fall to

the trail, as the Rocky Mountain guides express it," announced Tad.

Breakfast having been finished, the work of clearing away was left to

the guide. Tad asked Ned to accompany him. Ned was hardy and almost

as expert on trail work as was Butler himself, though with Tad such

work was more second nature than was the case with the other boy.

"Don't worry if we don't get back in time for luncheon," said Tad.

"We have some biscuit in our pockets, and if we don't get back before

night, why we will just camp out."

"You must return before night," ordered the Professor. "I want you

here when night comes."

"We will do our best. We shall probably return before noon, but if

we do not, remember that we are all right."

"If you find that dog--well, never mind," said Dunkan. "I'll promise

to do something handsome for both of you."

The boys with their ropes slung over their shoulders, their revolvers

in the holsters, strode out of camp waving good-bye to their fellows.

They were soon lost sight of.

"Fine boys," averred Ellison.

"Great," agreed Royal.

"The best ever," finished Dunkan.

"What about me?" demanded Chunky.

"Well, I reckon that any fellow who can eat a Pomeranian and get off

with nothing more serious than a stomach-ache is copper-lined and

brass-riveted," answered Dunkan.

The men soon went about their prospecting work, Professor Zepplin

accompanying Jim Dunkan, Walter going out with the other two men,

while Chunky remained at camp with Chops. The fat boy decided that

he could have more fun teasing the guide and sleeping between times

than he could in climbing over the rocks on foot. He could ride all

day, but a walk of a mile made him weary.

Tad and Ned, in the meantime, had started out on the trail of the dog

and the man, which they had again picked up at the very edge of the

camp. Reaching the rocks where the trail had been lost the boys sat

down to take a survey of the landscape.

"I think," said Butler, after a few moments of study, "that a person

climbing up this way would naturally head for that cut yonder. How

far is that from here?"

"A half mile, I should say."

"Yes, that is my idea. The course to the cut would seem to be the

easiest. Naturally the fellow would have taken the easiest route,

because he was in a hurry to get away."

"But what became of the dog?"

"Can't you guess, Ned?"

"I might guess a good many things. But they might be a long way from

the truth."

"Does this tell you anything?" asked Butler, pointing to a discolored

spot on the rock near where they were seated.

"Blood!" gasped Ned.

Tad nodded.

"He hurt the dog here. It is my opinion that he hid behind this

boulder and when the dog leaped up to the slippery rocks, the man

struck him with a club. It was very foxy."

"Gracious, but you have eyes and some other sense that I don't seem

to know much about," declared Rector admiringly.

"It is just horse sense, that's all, Ned. A fellow doesn't have to

be of the steel-trap variety. All he has to do to find out things is

to think a little and use his powers of observation."

"But--but, where is the dog?" begged Ned, still more perplexed now

that Tad had pointed out a real clew.

"Oh, the fellow carried him off so as to get him out of sight. If

the dog had been left here dead, that, he knew, would anger the men

so that they would get right out on the trail. If the dog were

carried away they might think the animal had got lost or fallen off a

cliff, or something of the sort."

"More horse sense," answered Rector with a grin.

"Yes, that's all it is. And now if you will come with me I'll wager

that I show you the dog," added Tad, scanning the landscape

critically.

"All right. I shan't be surprised at anything you show me or tell me

after this. I am stricken dumb with amazement and wonder. Oh, I am

a thick one."

"It's well you admit it, Ned," answered Butler laughingly.

"Do you admit your failings?" snapped Rector.

"Always, when I am accused by my friends."

"Then I have nothing more to say."

Tad had scrambled to his feet. Ned followed his lead, and together

they began climbing the steep side of the mountain, bearing off to

the right towards a gap in the ridge, rather than climbing straight

towards the top. All the time Butler was keeping a sharp lookout for

trail marks, but he found nothing that would aid him in his quest.

He was positive that the collie had been killed by the prowler whom

he had scared away from the camp on the previous night.

"Who do you think it was, Tad?" questioned the other boy after a

long, hard climb.

"If I were to guess I should say it was the same old trouble-maker,

Stillman, or Batts, his assistant, or companion-in-crime, whichever

you may wish to call it."

"Well, I must say those fellows are bold."

"They probably have a good deal at stake," answered Tad.

"What do you mean by that?"

"That there is crooked business of some kind going on up on this

ridge. I don't suppose it is any of our affair, except possibly as

it interferes with us and our rights."

"We've a large-sized bone to pick with the man anyway."

"We have," agreed Tad. "Here is a ledge that we can walk on. Keep a

sharp eye down in the gulch below and look out that you don't fall.

Shall I pass the rope around you?"

"No. What do you think I am, a baby? I don't get dizzy so easily as

all that."

"You're not like Mrs. Snedeker--you know Mrs. Snedeker in

Chillicothe?"

"Yes."

"She refused to go around the world with her husband because she said

it made her dizzy and sick to travel in a circle."

Ned grunted.

"If Stacy had told that story I shouldn't have been surprised, but I

am amazed at you, Tad."

"All right, we'll let it go at that. What do you see down there?"

"Nothing but air and the bottom."

"Then I have sharper eyes than you," chuckled Tad. "Back up a little.

There. Now look about six feet to the left of that rock with the

twin peaks. See anything?"

"Not a thing."

"Where are you looking?"

Rector pointed a finger, Tad glancing over it.

"You are looking six feet to the right of the twin peaks. I said you

should look about six feet to the left of the peaks."

"Oh!"

"Now what do you see?"

"Good gracious you don't mean--"

Tad nodded triumphantly.

"It's the collie!" whispered Ned in an awed voice.

"I think so. We can't be sure until we climb down and see for sure

whether it is or not."

"Well, if this doesn't beat anything I ever heard of," muttered Ned.

CHAPTER XX

A MYSTERIOUS PROCEEDING

Tad had already started back along the ledge which opened into the

gulch just before they reached the gap mentioned in the preceding

chapter. A short distance to the rear the rocks sloped down into the

gulch with a gradual fall. It was down this rugged place that Tad

began to climb, followed closely by Ned Rector.

[ILLUSTRATION: Tad Was Followed Closely by Ned Rector.]

The boys were too busy with their climb to do much talking on the way

down, and had they not been thoroughly seasoned they would have been

obliged to stop for breath more than once, even if the way was down

hill.

"Whew! That was some climb, wasn't it?" exclaimed Rector when

finally they reached the bottom.

Tad ran forward. Some ten rods up the gulch he halted, pointing to a

crushed heap on the ground.

"There's the poor collie, Ned."

"The fiends! They threw him over, didn't they?"

Tad nodded, thoughtfully.

The two boys found that the dog bore a severe wound on its head,

where Tad believed it had been struck with a heavy club or the butt

of a gun. There was no way of determining this to a certainty. But

Tad pointed out something to his companion in support of his theory

which again proved that the Pony Rider Boy possessed a keen mind for

reasoning out things.

"You will remember that the dog was running south when he was struck

on the rock where we found the blood?"

Ned agreed with a nod.

"And that I said the man struck the dog from behind the rock on the

left-hand side of the trail?"

"Yes."

"If you will examine the collie's head you will see that the wound

extends from the top down the left side of the head, indicating that

the person who dispatched him was also on that side. Doesn't that

prove it?"

Rector gasped.

"Say, Tad, I'll run in a minute if you don't quit. You give me the

creeps up and down my back. You're spooky. I'm glad Chunky isn't

here. He'd have run long ago. What shall we do, leave the dog

here?"

"Why, yes, I don't think it will be worth while to carry him back to

camp," decided Tad.

"Then we'll give the faithful old fellow a decent burial and heap

some rocks over him so the animals don't get at him. If Mr. Dunkan

wants him we can tell him where to find the collie."

The boys, choosing a hollow in the ground for the burial, heaped

dirt, stones and rubbish over the dead dog. Having completed this,

Tad started for the long climb back.

The climb was somewhat different from the downward journey. It was

grilling work going up that mountainside, and there were black and

blue marks on the bodies of both boys when they reached the top.

Ned's hands were skinned in spots and his temper had suffered

proportionately.

"Never again!" he exclaimed with a resentful look at Tad. "I might

have known better than to follow you."

"You ought to feel complimented that I asked you to accompany me."

"Ha, ha! as Chunky would say. What an excellent opinion we have of

ourselves, eh?"

"You know better than that, Ned Rector. You know I'm not the least

little bit conceited. I never could see any reason why a human being

should feel that he was any better or any smarter than any other

average person. Take my word for it, the conceited fellow gets his

bumps sooner or later."

"Like Chunky, for instance?" suggested Ned.

"No, I don't mean that kind. Chunky doesn't mean half of what he

says. He likes to make conversation and make fun, but he's a good

fellow and smarter than most people give him credit for being."

"I know that. I'd eat my hat for the fat little rascal, but I've got

to have my fun with him. Now what?"

"Maybe some more climbing. Use your eyes again. We are following a

trail now."

So far as either lad could observe there was no real trail to follow.

It was rock, rock everywhere they went. All the time they were

getting farther and farther away from the camp.

After an hour of toil over the rocky trail they came out into a

brush-covered plateau. Tad now got to work in earnest. It was but a

few moments later when he announced that he had found a trail, but

whether this was the particular trail for which they were in search

he did not know. It was a trail and he proposed to follow it out

until either it led them to something definite or came to a blind

ending.

The trail proved to be more fruitful than the boys had hoped. Half

to three-quarters of a mile farther on they were startled by the

report of a gun.

"Someone firing a shotgun," said Tad.

"Yes, it does sound that way," answered Ned.

"We will head for it. Funny thing to be using up here. These people

ordinarily use rifles. Where did you think the sound came from?"

"Over there." Ned pointed off to the right.

"I shouldn't be surprised if it were in the gulch we have just left."

"Farther to the west then."

The boys started to hunt out the man with the gun. They moved along

with extreme caution now, not wishing to receive a charge of

buckshot, nor were they courting discovery, for other good and

sufficient reasons.

"There it goes again," exclaimed Ned.

All at once they caught sight of a man half way down the side of the

gulch. A gun was standing against a tree near by, while the man was

scraping the ground with a stick.

"What is he doing?" whispered Ned as the boys, crouching down, eyed

him inquiringly.

"I don't know."

After a little the man, whom they now recognized as their old enemy,

Jay Stillman, took up his gun, reloaded it, and then began walking

about the place as if selecting a particular spot for further

operations.

To the amazement of the boys Stillman thrust the muzzle of the gun

down to within two feet of the ground, then fired the charge into the

earth.

A second barrel was fired in a similar manner.

"For goodness' sake, what is he trying to do?" whispered Ned.

"I don't know, unless he has gone crazy," answered Tad. "Shooting

charges into the ground is new business to me. I'll warrant he is up

to some monkeyshine, though."

"Maybe he thinks he can hit a heathen on the other side of the world,"

suggested Ned.

"He's going to shoot again," Tad announced.

Two loud bangs gave evidence that Stillman had done it again. He

continued these same tactics, covering quite an area of ground, his

operations lasting until long after midday. All this time the two

Pony Rider Boys were creeping along at a safe distance behind the

mountaineer, watching his every movement. Finally, leaving his gun,

he began working among the rocks. What he was doing the lads were

unable to make out, and they were more puzzled over these peculiar

actions than they ever had been in their lives.

Late in the afternoon Stillman shouldered his double-barrelled gun

and started off toward the southwest. The boys promptly secreted

themselves, because it looked as though the man were going to pass

near them. He did so, though all unconscious of their presence.

"Are you going down there to see what he has been doing?" whispered

Ned.

"No, I'm going to follow him. We know where that place is. It can't

get away, but he can."

This being good reasoning Rector had nothing more to say. Stillman

had swung off at a mountaineer's stride, a pace so rapid that he soon

outdistanced the two lads, making it necessary for them to run to

catch up with him. This running nearly proved their undoing.

Suddenly they came in sight of the man. He was standing on a rise of

ground, apparently listening, but looking off to the left. The boys

dropped instantly, lying flat on the ground until they saw Stillman

shoulder his gun and start on again.

"He must have heard us," whispered Tad. "We must be cautious. We know

him to be a bad man and we know he is up to some crooked business. I

wish I knew just what it is. Probably he's going to his shack."

"I see it!" exclaimed Ned.

"Yes, there's the roof of a building and a chimney. I reckon we're

getting near our friend's roosting place. This is fine. You see

what a little patience does for one. Now go carefully."

Making a wide detour the boys came up to one side of the building that

they had discovered. Stillman was nowhere in sight. It was

reasonable to suppose that he had entered the building.

The structure was built up of small logs, the cracks being chinked

with what looked to be red mud, and a broad chimney extended some six

feet above the low roof, built high to give the fire below more draft.

All about the place was a dense growth of bushes, with occasional

paths intersecting the plot.

"I wish we could get a look inside that place," muttered Tad.

"Not going to try it, are you?"

"No, not now. Not while he is in there. I wish he would go away."

"No such luck," complained Rector.

Almost ere the words were out of his mouth Jay Stillman stepped out

from the cabin. This time he carried a rifle under his arm. He

stood at the doorway of the cabin for some moments as if thinking.

After a time he started down a well-beaten path that led him within a

rod of where the two boys were in hiding. They scarcely breathed as

he strode past them. Tad was up soon after on the mountaineer's

trail. The boys did not have far to go. Stillman's horse was

tethered in a glade a short distance from there. The man quickly

saddled and bridled his mount; then, leaping into the saddle, he

galloped away to the eastward.

Tad started on a run, to keep the man in sight as long as possible,

and further to make sure that Stillman really was going away.

"He's gone. Now for his cabin!" cried Tad.

"I do hope there's no one there. Perhaps we may be able to discover

something."

Turning toward the log cabin, still on a dog-trot, the boys headed

towards more trouble and a most exciting experience in the cabin of

the mountaineer.

CHAPTER XXI

TRAPPED IN A MOUNTAIN CABIN

As they neared the cabin they proceeded with more caution. They did

not know if there were others in the building, though Tad did not

believe such to be the case. At the rear of the place bushes grew

close to the side of the building, so the boys chose this way of

approaching the cabin.

"This is a pretty serious thing, intruding upon a man's home,"

whispered Tad. "But I think we are justified in doing so."

They had reached the building. Tad placed an ear against the side,

but not a sound could he catch from within.

"I don't believe there is anyone at home," remarked the lad quietly.

"I'm going to take a peep."

Creeping along one side of the cabin he reached a window and

attempted to peer in. A sheet of brown wrapping paper had been

secured over the window so as to shut off all view from the outside.

But Tad, not yet at the end of his resources, decided upon a bold

move. First making sure that no one was about, the lad walked boldly

around to the front, nodding to his companion to follow.

Tad rapped on the door. There was no reply. He knocked harder.

Under his heavy raps the door swung open a little way, Butler at the

same time stepping back. He thought someone had opened the door, but

quickly saw that he had done that himself.

The boy pushed the door wide open, gazed in through the opening, then

stepped in. It was not an uncommon thing in the mountains for a

traveler to enter another's cabin. Both boys knew that. Had they

not done the same thing in the Rockies, and had not mountaineers

helped themselves to the camp of the Pony Rider Boys on more than one

occasion? Nothing ever had been thought of it, but somehow Tad Butler

felt some misgivings about his present undertaking.

He stepped in, glancing about him inquiringly. There was little to

distinguish Stillman's home from other mountain cabins they had

visited. The shotgun that they had seen the man use was hanging on

the wall. The dishes from breakfast were still on the bare deal

table, as was a lamp with a smoked chimney. Chunks of rock were

heaped in a corner.

The fireplace was a huge affair. It was built of rough rocks, laid

up almost like a staircase, extending half way across the end of the

cabin. In one corner was a heap of logs sawed to length, together

with a great pile of dry kindling wood. Stillman was well prepared

for wet or winter weather, though there were not enough blankets in

sight to protect a man in very cold weather. A bed of boughs served

for a sleeping place.

Tad stooped over and pried up a loose board in the floor. He found

there, in a small hole that had been excavated, another heap of rocks

similar to those found in the cabin itself.

"It is my opinion that these are samples of ore," reflected the boy.

"Do you know, I believe it is some shrewd game along this line that

Stillman is playing."

The boys examined the place for the better part of an hour, finally

sitting down to discuss what they had discovered and trying to get at

the real secret of their discoveries.

All at once they realized that the day was drawing to a close. The

sun had gone down some time since. Twilight fell suddenly. They

also realized that they were hungry and that it was high time they

were starting back to camp, which they would not now be able to reach

until long after dark. Tad reasoned that they were a good three

miles or more from the camp. The others surely would be worrying

about them.

"They'll have a fine time finding us if they start to look for us,"

jeered Ned.

"Yes, I reckon they will," answered Butler with a broad grin. "They

never would look for us in this place. Let's be off. First thing we

know, we won't know--" Tad paused sharply, bending his head in a

listening attitude.

All at once he sprang to the door, and opening it a crack peered out.

He closed the door softly and bounded back, a worried look on his

face.

"What is it?" whispered Ned.

"Someone is coming."

"Hurry! Run for it, then!" urged Ned.

"Too late. He is almost here."

Ned groaned.

"The fireplace," cried Tad in a low, tense voice. "Climb up!

There's plenty of room. Get up as far as you can. This is a fine

fix we have got into. Be quiet and have your nerve with you. Go on!"

Tad gave his companion a push towards the broad fireplace. Rector

made a leap for it, and peered up into the dark chimney.

"Go on, go on!" urged Tad, giving Rector another push.

Ned disappeared up the chimney, and Tad squirmed in under the arch

and was up, following his companion with the agility of a squirrel.

Butler had barely drawn his feet up when he heard the door of the

cabin open and close with a slam. The intruder put his gun down with

a bump plainly heard by both boys. A moment later a faint light was

seen below them. The newcomer had lighted the lamp.

The boys had been up the chimney but a few moments when they heard

the man go to the door where, after listening briefly, he uttered a

whistle. An answering whistle, sounding far away to the boys up

there, came almost instantly. Then a few minutes later a second man

came tramping into the cabin.

"You're late, Joe," announced a voice that the lads recognized as

belonging to Jay Stillman.

"Yes, I couldn't get away from Beach."

"That's Joe Batts," muttered Tad. "A precious pair of rascals, as we

shall find out if we are discovered."

"Is he going to bring the other man out soon?"

"Yes. He and Beach will be along in the morning."

"Think Beach is on the level?"

"No, of course he isn't. But he doesn't dare play foxy with us.

Besides, it's money in his pocket to play square. He doesn't know

where the plant is."

"What's the matter with his having a plant of his own?"

Batts laughed.

"I reckon he doesn't know enough about the game to try that," he

answered with a harsh laugh.

"He'd better not," growled Stillman.

"Got everything fixed?"

"Yes. I planted a new patch of yellow daisies this afternoon,"

answered Jay, whereat a series of chuckles drifted up the chimney,

causing Tad to wonder what the men meant by "yellow daisies." There

seemed no explanation of the term.

"I'm going to sneeze," whispered Rector.

"Don't you dare," commanded Tad in alarm.

"I've breathed in enough soot to clog a smoke stack."

"Hold your nose."

"Seen anything of that Pony Rider outfit?" asked Stillman.

"They've connected with Dunkan's crowd," replied Joe Batts.

"They have? I tell you we made a mistake in letting them get in so

close. They've got to be driven out. We have too much at stake.

First, here is the claim we salted down today, then there is the

other thing. Between the two we are in to make a big fortune. I'm

to meet Bates the day after tomorrow and get our pay for the work we

are doing up at the other place."

"About that Pony crowd, and the other bunch. We've got to get rid of

them and right smart. They are too nosey," declared Batts.

"What are we going to do, shoot them down and get strung up for it?

Not for mine. We'll put them out of business in some other way. I

would have done it last night, but--"

"But what?" questioned Batts.

"I opened the way. I got that critter all right."

"The dog?"

"Yes."

"They'll raise a row about that," warned Batts.

"No they won't. They'll think he fell over. Oh, I looked after that

all right. There's only one thing to be done, get our money for the

claim we salted, and the wad for the other work we are doing, and

clear out."

"What about Hans?"

"I ain't bothering about him. Let him fight his own battles. We

have played this game for several months now and have a tidy sum put

away where it will be safe. First thing we know the government will

get wise, and then it will be all up with us for the next twenty

years if not worse."

"Got anything for Hans tonight?" questioned Batts.

"Yes. I'm going to take it over to him later. He doesn't have to

send it out until midnight. Tomorrow night Smoky Griffin won't be in

until one o'clock with the stuff. It's coming in another way, but

the critters won't get wise to it, even if they have doped out the

other system, which there's evidence that they are on track of.

Those Pony Boys have got to be run out of these mountains before we

do anything else, and they've got to go right away."

"That's easy," declared Batts confidently.

Stillman shoved back his chair, and, gathering a bundle of dry wood,

placed it in the fireplace, first having stuffed an old newspaper in.

Tad groaned inwardly. He knew what was coming. Stillman touched a

match to the heap in the fireplace. A faint crackling sound was

borne to the ears of the two Pony Rider Boys, and a wave of heat

rolled up to them.

"Oh, help! This settles it!" moaned Ned Rector.

Then came a cloud of white, suffocating smoke. Ned let go a terrific

sneeze. The sneeze jolted him loose, his feet slipped from the ledge,

and he went sliding down on top of his companion, uttering a yell as

he felt Tad giving way beneath him.

CHAPTER XXII

PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE STEW

Jay Stillman, after starting the fire, had suspended a kettle from a

crane, having first half filled the kettle with a stew that he

proposed to warm over for their evening meal. Fortunately for the

two lads who were sliding down the chimney the stew had not yet

become hot enough to do any damage to a boy's skin. On the other

hand, the smoke in a dense, suffocating cloud was pouring up the

chimney.

As the yell in the chimney reached the ears of the two men sitting by

the table they gazed at each other in amazement. Quick-witted as

they were, the true significance did not occur to them. Pieces of

stone, soot, the accumulation of years, were dropping into the fire.

Then came a solid body.

Tad Butler hit the fire first. He smashed into it, carrying kettle

and crane down with him. Fire, burning brands and sparks belched out

into the room as though an explosion had occurred in the big

fireplace.

Tad with quick instinct was struggling to get out of the way of his

falling companion, when Ned Rector landed on him full force. Tad

humped himself, and Ned went sprawling out on the hearth.

Butler did not lose his presence of mind for a second. In fact Tad

had formed his plans, so far as it was possible to form them, before

he reached the fire.

Uttering a yell, calculated to strike terror to one who heard it, Tad

rolled out on the hearth, his clothes ablaze and his hair almost

singed off. The mountaineers still sat in their chairs, lower jaws

hanging, eyes bulging.

Without waiting for the men to recover from their surprise, Tad gave

a couple of quick rolls. The rolls served to put out some of the

fire in his clothes as well as to bring him nearer to the object

towards which he was rolling.

The boy's feet came up with great force, and the deal table standing

between the two mountaineers rose up into the air, dishes, lamp and

all.

Ned uttered a howl, a series of howls. Blood-curdling howls they

were, too. He had caught Tad's purpose and was aiding it with all

his might.

The lamp, dishes and all went over with a crash. The two men in

trying to get out of the way of the flying dishes and lamp both

toppled over backward, landing on their backs on the floor. Of

course the lamp exploded with a dull "pouff"!

"The door!" Tad commanded sharply. "Run low!"

Ned scrambled to all fours and made for the door dog-fashion. By

this time Stillman and Batts had sprung to their feet and drawn their

revolvers.

"Shoot! Shoot!" yelled Jay.

"My gun's stuck," howled Batts.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

Three shots were fired in quick succession from the pistol of Jay

Stillman. Two of them bored holes in the door casing just above Ned

Rector's head. The third shot went out through the open door.

Tad was still in the room, but crawling toward the door with all

speed. The light from the burning oil now flared up, revealing his

presence. Stillman let go two quick shots at the boy. One bullet

grazed Tad's head. He remembered afterward that it felt hot, like

the heat in the fireplace when he fell into the stew.

Batts at this juncture jerked his weapon from its holster, but the

pistol slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

"Oh, you fool!" roared Stillman.

Tad plunged out through the open door, landing on his face in the

dirt.

"Jump to one side!" he commanded sharply.

Ned, taking the hint, gave a leap to the right, and just in time, for

he was standing directly in front of the open door, through which two

revolver bullets were fired almost at the instant of his leap. Tad

had crawled to the left.

"Run!" he called.

Ned did run until Butler called a halt a few rods from the cabin.

Tad grasped the arm of his companion the instant he reached him, then

led the boy back toward the cabin.

"Where, where you going?" gasped Tad.

"To see what is going on back there. Are you hurt?"

"I'm near dead," groaned Rector. "I haven't any skin left except

what is hanging in shreds. Oh, what an awful experience. I'll bet

you are a sight, too."

The boys were creeping nearer the cabin. They found the two men

inside stamping out the fire on which they had thrown blankets from

the bunks.

Stillman dashed out of doors as soon as he had extinguished the fire.

In his hand was his rifle. In the meantime Batts had procured

another lamp and shortly afterwards had lighted and placed it on the

table.

Stillman remained outside, crouching by the doorway listening, with

rifle ready to take a shot at the slightest sound. At that moment

Tad Butler and Ned Rector were lying less than ten feet from the

crouching figure of the mountaineer. They dared hardly breathe.

"What do you make of it, Jay?" asked the other man, thrusting his

head out close to the watching mountaineer.

"Funny business."

"Where are they?"

"I wish I knew. I'd kill them on sight."

"You--you don't think it was one of the outfit down in the gulch, do

you?" asked Batts.

"I reckon not. Still, it might have been. We'll get supper and I'll

go down there and find out," decided Stillman with emphasis. "If I

see any signs of a fellow who has been in a fire I'll plug him sure

as my name's Stillman," raged the mountaineer.

"Look out, Joe!" warned Batts. "They may still be touchy about the

pup and have a weather eye open."

"They won't catch me, now that I'm on my guard."

Stillman entered the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

"Somebody ought to keep watch," suggested Batts.

"You go out. I'll fix up the wreck. No; take your own gun. I want

mine where I can get hold of it. I overshot, too. Did you get wise

to the foxiness of those fellows? Run out on all fours so we'd shoot

over them. Foxy, foxy! That wasn't no tenderfoot trick."

Batts picked up his rifle and started for the door.

"Skip!" whispered Tad. "Run for it, but don't make a sound unless

you want to stop a bullet."

Ned Rector needed no urging. By the time Batts had reached the

threshold of the door the boys were well down the path. Even then

the keen-eared mountaineer heard them, and sent a bullet in their

direction, but the bullet sailed far above the heads of the boys.

Tad changed his course somewhat, as the fellow had their range a

little too closely to suit young Butler.

"I guess that's all," decided Ned.

"Don't be too sure of it. They may be following us, so we must be

cautious."

"What do you mean?" demanded Ned.

"I mean that I am going to follow those fellows. There surely is

something big on foot. I think I know what it is, and if I am right

we shall have done the biggest piece of work of our lives."

Ned Rector groaned.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MYSTERY OF SMOKY BALD

An hour passed before the boys discovered any sign of life about the

cabin. The hoot of an owl somewhere off to their right brought

Stillman to the door of the cabin. Two quick hoots from Stillman

elicited an answering one from the brush. Then a man stepped into

the clearing.

"Smoky Griffin," breathed Tad. "I was certain that he was in this

deal, whatever it may be. There! See! He is giving Stillman

something. Those fellows surely are bold. How do they know but we

are still hanging around here?"

Tad crept away and was soon pressing his ear close to the window over

which the brown paper was stretched. While he could hear the voices

of the three men in there, he was unable to make out a word of what

they were saying. Half an hour later Smoky left the cabin. He was

shortly followed by Joe Batts and Stillman, who plainly were trailing

Smoky.

Something was doing in a very few minutes. Stillman and Batts had

emerged from the cabin so cautiously that none but sharp eyes could

have detected their exit. The men separated and cautiously worked

their way around the cabin, all the time enlarging their circle of

observation, until they had penetrated far into the shrubbery.

Apparently having satisfied themselves that there were no prowlers

about, they joined and started off to the northward, plainly

following a well-established trail.

"They are off. Come on," whispered Tad with a trace of excitement in

his voice.

The mountaineers strode rapidly along, apparently without thought

that they might be followed. Nevertheless Tad used every caution,

though he was obliged to travel rapidly to keep up with the men.

"Look there!" whispered Tad, crouching low.

The mountaineers had suddenly halted. In the near distance Butler

discovered, faintly outlined, a cabin. Just then one of the men

placed his hands to his lips and uttered a long-drawn cry that

sounded like the call of a night bird. A light flashed up. It

seemed to be high up near the tops of the trees. The light was more

like an electric flash than that from an ordinary lamp.

"Hark! Hear that!" exclaimed Ned.

"A gasoline motor. This is strange," muttered Butler.

Stillman and Batts strode to the cabin and after a few moments were

admitted. Tad and Ned crept up closer. They dared not go all the

way to the mountain cabin until after they had assured themselves

that there were no traps for them to fall into. It had seemed a

little too easy for Tad thus far.

"Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, after having stretched out his hand to

feel his way ahead.

"What is it?" demanded Rector.

"A wire, and it's charged. Not very heavy, but it stung me. Ned,

I'll wager that this wire extends all the way around this cabin. You

see it is only about a foot from the ground so that a person not

knowing it was here would trip over it and probably give the alarm to

the occupants of the cabin. This begins to look interesting."

"Oh, Tad, look!"

"Sh-h-h-h! Not so loud, Ned. You surely will get us into trouble."

"But look up there near the tree tops. What is it? More signals?"

"Yes, but not what you think," whispered Tad.

A faint crackling sound was borne to their ears, little crinkly darts

of electricity shooting out from a point up there in the air.

"I--I don't understand it," whispered Ned.

"Wireless, Ned," answered Tad. "I looked to find something of the

sort. Someone is sending."

At intervals the rhythmic squeal of the wireless would set in, then

suddenly cease. Finally the message was sent, so Tad interpreted the

sounds and flashes. The sending lasted all of ten minutes, then the

power was shut off and silence settled over the cabin.

"Are you going to try to get into the cabin?" questioned Ned a little

apprehensively.

"Not tonight. I have other plans in view. I am waiting for--there

they come." Stillman and Batts crept from the cabin and stood

silently for several minutes. Tad heard Stillman say, "All right,"

whereupon the two men set off toward their own cabin, with Tad Butler

and Ned Rector following at a safe distance to the rear.

At last they saw the men enter their own cabin, after which Tad

decided that it was time to go home to his own camp. Part of the

return journey was taken at a trot, a regular Indian lope, which was

reduced to a cautious feeling of their way as they neared the Pony

Rider Boys' camp. A bright campfire was burning there and, as they

reached the edge of the camp, Tad saw that the entire outfit was up,

though it was then two o'clock in the morning. There was a shout

when Tad and Ned stepped into the circle of light.

The two boys were not pleasant-looking objects. Their faces were

blackened and their hair badly singed, while their clothing was half

burned from their bodies.

Jim Dunkan and his companions saw that the boys had been through a

tough experience, but they waited in patience until Tad should be

ready to explain what had occurred. Walter and Chunky were shooting

questions at Tad and Ned at a more rapid rate than any one person

could reply to.

"First put a guard out, then give us something to eat. We are liable

to be spied upon and it is very important that nothing of what I am

about to say be overheard by any outsider. Who will take the watch?"

Tom Royal volunteered to do so, though it was evident that he much

preferred to remain in camp and listen to what Tad had to tell them.

"I--I got the biscuit thief!" cried Chunky. "Nassir. Yassir. There

he sits. Chops is the biscuit destroyer. I caught him red handed."

"By the Way, Mr. Dunkan, Stillman is the man who killed your dog,"

said Tad. "We found the poor collie and gave him a decent burial."

Dunkan's face hardened and one hand dropped to the holster at his

side.

"I think we shall even things up with him, so please don't take the

law into your own hands," urged Tad. "I think you will be willing to

let the law take its course after you have heard what I have to say.

Is there a government officer anywhere within reach?"

"Jim Coville, the forest ranger, is the only man I know of," answered

Sam Ellison.

"Where may he be reached?"

"It's a twenty-mile ride to his station."

"I must find him at once. Will you go with me and show me the way?

After I get something to eat I will tell you what has occurred."

Dunkan said he would.

While Tad and Ned were eating their belated supper the others sat

about--all but Chunky, who decided that he too needed food--and

waited with some impatience until Tad was ready to tell them his

story.

This he did very shortly afterwards, sketching it briefly up to the

time of Smoky Griffin's appearance on the scene.

"You beat anything I ever heard of," growled Sam Ellison.

"What do you make of it, sir?" asked Tad.

"Make of it? Why, Tad, you've turned up one of the biggest

sensations this mountain has ever known. Those fellows that you saw

shooting into the ground today--or the one you saw doing it--was

salting the ground with gold so that when the man they were going to

swindle had the soil analyzed it would be found to contain 'pay dirt'

in profitable quantities. I wonder who the victim was to be?"

"I heard them mention a man named Beach," said Butler.

Dunkan laughed loudly.

"So! He is in it, too, eh? Beach is a crooked real estate man from

down Asheville way. A wireless outfit on Smoky Bald, eh? Well, if

that doesn't beat all. Kid, what do you think that wireless outfit

way up here means?"

"I have been thinking about it backward and forward," answered Tad

seriously. "I have thought that perhaps the sending that we heard

was to some persons belonging to the gang. It may be that the folks

at the other end are making a deal to send someone in here to be

swindled. I may be on the wrong trail entirely, but that's the way I

reason the mystery out."

"Boy, I reckon you've doped this thing about right," nodded Dunkan.

"Is it possible?" bristled the Professor. "Then we must do

something."

"Yes. We must get an officer. He will know what to do, sir,"

replied Butler. "I first thought we might bag the outfit ourselves,

for they surely are here for no lawful purpose. After thinking the

thing over I don't believe it would do at all."

"Jim Coville is the man we want. He is a forest ranger, and has

authority over things besides trees. We will go get him when you are

ready, Butler."

"I am ready now, Mr. Dunkan. We shall be back some time tomorrow,

Professor. I think the boys had better stay in camp. Please, also,

be careful how you boys speak of this matter, as there may be

eavesdroppers, and no suspicion of the truth must reach the ears of

the enemy."

It was a few moments later when Tad Butler and Jim Dunkan swung to

their saddles and started off for their long ride to the station of

the forest ranger.

CHAPTER XIV

CONCLUSION

Day was dawning when the two, after a trying journey, reached the

cabin of the ranger. Tad uttered a long drawn "Hoo-o-o-o-e-e-e,"

which brought Jim Coville to the door of his cabin. He recognized

Dunkan at once, and invited the two in. Jim had another guest, a man

who was introduced as Rodman, and whom Tad Butler decided was a very

keen, resourceful man.

The callers, when they said they had something of importance that

they wished to say to Coville in private, were informed that they

might speak freely before Rodman. Tad then told his story, watching

and noting its effect on Rodman. He saw that worthy start when he

mentioned the sparking up near the tree tops.

"Young man," cried Rodman after Tad had finished, "you have done a

big thing, and for which you have earned and will receive the thanks

of the United States Government. I am Dave Rodman, United States

Secret Service, and I am here to find a supposed, or rather suspected,

gang of swindlers in these mountains. I have covered the Ridge and I

have found nothing. Your eyes and your scent were keener than mine.

What is your plan?"

"That we go there in force tonight."

"I'll have to send for help. That will take nearly two days."

"I reckon you will have all the help you need," spoke up Jim Dunkan.

"There are four in my party and there's five of the Pony Rider outfit.

I'll stake that crowd against any twenty men in these mountains. You

turn these boys loose on their own hook and they'll bring back every

one of these traitors, dead or alive--probably alive."

"I am inclined to agree with you," replied the Secret Service man

after a brief consideration of the subject, during which he regarded

Tad Butler shrewdly. "If the others are from the same piece that you

are, young man, I don't need any other assistance. I will go with

you now."

"No, that will not be wise," objected Tad. "You must not be seen in

our company or you will frighten away the men you are after. If I

may offer a suggestion, keep under cover right here until after dark,

then take the trail for our camp. I will start out early in the

evening and get on the trail of the gang, meeting you at a certain

agreed-upon point, where you will go with my party. I shall then

know what to tell you about the situation."

"All right. I'll be there at nine o'clock. Thank you," he added,

rising and giving Tad's hand a quick, firm pressure.

Coville made his visitors sit down and have breakfast with him before

they started out on their return journey. They left him about nine

o'clock that morning. Reaching their camp, Tad, saying that he was

too sleepy to talk, turned in for a long sleep, from which he

awakened about four o'clock in the afternoon. He then detailed to

his companions what his plans were, and named an hour and place where

he would meet them that evening, then, shouldering his rifle, the boy

sauntered from the camp as if he were out to hunt game for his outfit,

and was seen no more that day.

It was eleven o'clock at night when the mournful hoot of an owl in a

gulch about half a mile from Stillman's cabin brought an answering

hoot, after a proper interval. A few moments later the party of Pony

Riders and prospectors, headed by Dave Rodman, were startled to see

Tad Butler standing before them. Though they knew he was to meet

them at that point, he had slipped in among them so cleverly that it

seemed as if he had suddenly grown out of the ground.

"You're a wonder," complimented Rodman. "What is the news?"

"Your men are at the wireless station right now, and some hours

before they were supposed to be there. There are five of them.

Beach is with them. It is to be their last meeting at the cabin, for

they seem to have discovered that they are being looked for, and

propose to make a getaway to-night."

"Who are the other three?" demanded Rodman sharply.

"Besides Beach, there are Smoke Griffin and the wireless man, whose

name is Hans Gruber, and one other. I think we had better be going

or we may be too late," suggested Tad.

Dave Rodman uttered an exclamation under his breath.

"I reckon you're right," agreed the Secret Service man. "For your

information I will tell you that I have heard of Gruber before. He

was under suspicion of being a German spy during the war, and was one

of three men who blew up a munition factory in a certain place. The

others were caught, but Gruber got away. Uncle Sam is still looking

for him. Shall we move?"

"Yes," answered Tad. "I suggest that we go cautiously and keep

quiet. All ready."

In due time Tad halted at the point where he and Ned had first

discovered the cabin. He directed his companions to wait there while

he did a little investigating. Rodman was willing to leave the

arrangements to Butler, realizing that the lad was keen, and that,

knowing the ground, he would be likely to avoid pitfalls. Tad

returned half an hour later.

"The men are all in the cabin," he said. "They aren't working the

wireless tonight, but they are working their jaws, at times having

quite a heated discussion over the division of the funds. They

expect a victim to come up here tomorrow with one of their fellows,

to buy that salted-down gold mine, but they aren't going to wait for

him. There is a light in the cabin. You can't see it from here

because they have hung a blanket over the window."

"Do you know if the wireless plant is in the cabin?" questioned

Rodman.

"No, sir, it is under the cabin," answered Tad promptly. "The

aerials are now down and all traces of the plant above ground have

been removed."

"Huh! Anything else?"

"There is a burglar alarm wire surrounding the cabin. I'll tell you

when you get to it. Be careful that you do not stumble over it."

Rodman was amazed.

"Wait a moment," he said. "If you have a plan I should like to hear

it before we proceed. Perhaps I may not approve of it."

"Yes, sir, I was about to suggest it. There is only one door in the

cabin, and that is on this side. There is one window at the rear.

Two men should get within easy range of that window, so they can

plainly see any person who attempts to go out through it. The rest

of the party should line up in front with rifles at ready, a little

ahead of the others."

"And what will you be doing?" demanded the government officer.

"Oh, I am going in to demand their surrender."

"Quiet now. Every man on the alert," ordered Rodman. "Take

positions."

Ned and Ellison were assigned to guard the window exits, while the

others were placed in open order in a curving line about the front of

the cabin. "Ready, Butler?"

For answer Tad stepped forward cautiously, halting when close to the

cabin, to look back at his support. He nodded, and walking up to the

door, placed an ear against it. All eyes out there were upon the

slender figure of the Pony Rider Boy faintly outlined against the

cabin. Finally Tad waved a hand to indicate that he was ready. He

tried the door and found that it was not locked.

Slipping his revolver from its holster Tad gently pushed the door

open, so gently in fact that those within evidently thought a

mountain breeze was responsible. Butler was at one side of the door

now, and was unseen by those in the cabin. His purpose was to give

Dave Rodman a good view of the interior.

"Great guns but that boy is a cool one!" muttered Tom Royal.

Stillman sprang up and strode towards the door. His hand was upon it

when all at once the muzzle of a revolver was pushed firmly against

his stomach. The others in the cabin did not see what had occurred,

but it was plain that they understood something was wrong.

"Put out the light!" yelled Stillman, springing back.

"You are surrounded. Give in before all of you are shot!" retorted

Butler. He fired a shot into the floor of the cabin, and almost at

the same instant a volley of revolver shots answered his own, but

Tad, crouching low, was unhit. He then fired a little higher, hoping

to catch a leg. He did. The leg belonged to Stillman, as Tad knew

by the yell that followed.

"Do you surrender?" called Butler, dodging to one side again. The

answer was a volley of shots from the inside.

"Give them a low volley. Look out, you fellows behind the cabin,"

ordered Tad. The volley came at about the instant that Tad threw

himself on the ground. During the remaining few minutes the men in

the cabin fired rapidly at the flashes of the rifles out there, but

with poor results. Stacy Brown got a bullet through an arm--that is,

it grazed the skin--because he decided that he could shoot better

standing up. Chunky yelled that he was "shotted," but no one paid

any attention to him.

Professor Zepplin was blazing away, while Ned and Royal lay flat on

their stomachs back of the cabin, narrowly watching the window.

Their patience was rewarded a few minutes later when the window, sash

and all, burst out and a human being tumbled out. He scrambled to

his feet.

"Halt. Drop your gun!" commanded Royal.

Instead the fellow ran. Royal brought him down with a bullet in the

leg.

"Don't move. You are a dead man if you get up!" warned Ned. "If the

bullets from the officers don't get you, one of ours will. I know

you. You're Smoky Griffin and we've got you dead to rights this

time, you miserable scoundrel. You won't do any more bluffing on

this range for a long time to come, I reckon."

"Why not set fire to the cabin and smoke them out?" cried Walter

Perkins.

"No, no, no," returned the Professor. "We must not destroy the

evidence. Tad knows what to do and he is doing it bravely, like the

man he is."

"Cease firing!" shouted Tad Butler. "They are asking for quarter."

"What do you wish us to do?" demanded Joe Batts.

"Lay down your arms and come out one by one. Don't try to go out by

the rear window. I reckon one of your cayuses who tried it is lying

on his back out there now."

"Come and get us!" howled a voice from within the cabin.

"All right, we'll come and get you, but first we'll give you some

volleys to put you in a more humble frame of mind. Low ball!"

answered Rodman.

Once more Tad, who had risen, threw himself down, and the rifles of

his party banged away at the cabin, the front of which was by this

time thoroughly perforated with bullet holes.

"We give in. Stop shooting!" called someone in the cabin.

"Cease firing!" commanded Rodman. "Stillman out first. Leave your

guns in the cabin!"

Stillman dragged himself slowly out. One leg would not bear his

weight.

"Over there," directed Tad, waving a hand toward his companions.

"Mr. Dunkan, here is the man who killed your dog. Hans, come out

here. Be quick about it!"

A bespectacled, thin, studious-appearing man staggered out and

collapsed on the ground.

"Batts and Beach now!"

The two crawled out on all fours. Both had been wounded in the legs.

"Smoky Griffin."

"He went out through the window," groaned Batts.

"Ned, have you got Smoky?"

"You bet."

"That's all, then. No one else in there, is there, Batts?"

"Go find out if you want to know," growled the mountaineer.

"All right, I will." Tad swept the interior of the cabin with a flash

light that he had brought along, and found that all of the men were

out. "Gather them in, Mr. Rodman. All clear within."

With a yell the Pony Rider Boys and the prospectors sprang forward

and a few moments later the prisoners, whose wounds Professor Zepplin

had dressed, were securely bound. Smoky was attended to by Ned

Rector.

An examination was then made of the cabin. In the cellar were found

a gasoline engine with which the dynamo was operated, and a powerful

wireless outfit. Papers which proved to be of great value to the

government agent also were found in a secret compartment under the

cellar floor. At the direction of the Secret Service man, for reasons

known to himself, the plant was left as it was for the time being.

Early the following morning the prisoners were loaded on ponies, and

the long journey to the railroad station was begun.

On the way to the station, Beach, a cowardly fellow, was induced to

make a confession, through which the government agents were enabled

to telegraph on for the arrest of the men higher up in the nefarious

scheme, which might have made millions for its originators.

This crime syndicate had its agents in many cities, where victims

were selected and sent to the mountains to be fleeced. Ahead of them

went the wireless messages giving full details and directions to the

men that the Pony Rider Boys had discovered on the Ridge. Most of

the principals in the scheme were arrested, though the leading figure,

if there was one, was never captured nor even identified.

Following the clearing up of the mystery of the mountains, the Pony

Rider Boys resumed their adventuring until the time came for them to

head their ponies northward. The Riders were going home, going

regretfully, too, with a year of hard work before them, but to be

heard from again in a series of delightful as well as exciting

experiences. The story of these will be related in a following

volume entitled, "THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN NEW ENGLAND; Or, An Exciting

Quest in the Maine Wilderness."

THE END