The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon, by James
Carson


This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org





Title: The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon
       or The Hermit of the Cave


Author: James Carson



Release Date: June 15, 2007  [eBook #21841]
[Last updated: March 10, 2011]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SADDLE BOYS IN THE GRAND
CANYON***


E-text prepared by Mark C. Orton, Thomas Strong, Linda McKeown, and the
Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)



Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
      file which includes the original illustration.
      See 21841-h.htm or 21841-h.zip:
      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/1/8/4/21841/21841-h/21841-h.htm)
      or
      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/1/8/4/21841/21841-h.zip)





THE SADDLE BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON

Or

The Hermit of the Cave

by

CAPTAIN JAMES CARSON

Author of "The Saddle Boys of the Rockies," "The Saddle
Boys on the Plains," "The Saddle Boys at
Circle Ranch," Etc.

Illustrated







New York
Cupples & Leon Company
Publishers


     *     *     *     *     *     *


                BOOKS FOR BOYS

           BY CAPTAIN JAMES CARSON


            THE SADDLE BOYS SERIES

           12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.


       THE SADDLE BOYS OF THE ROCKIES
         Or, Lost On Thunder Mountain

       THE SADDLE BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON
         Or, The Hermit of the Cave

       THE SADDLE BOYS ON THE PLAINS
         Or, After a Treasure of Gold

       THE SADDLE BOYS AT CIRCLE RANCH
         Or, In At The Grand Round-Up

    CUPPLES & LEON CO PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.


     *     *     *     *     *     *


Copyrighted 1913, by
Cupples & Leon Company

THE SADDLE BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON

Printed in U.S.A.




CONTENTS

CHAPTER                                                           PAGE

    I. THE WORK OF THE WOLF PACK                                     1

   II. RIDDING THE RANGE OF A PEST                                  11

  III. THE FLOATING BOTTLE                                          21

   IV. THE LISTENER UNDER THE WINDOW                                34

    V. STARTING FOR THE GRAND CANYON                                46

   VI. BUCKSKIN ON GUARD                                            54

  VII. STANDING BY THE LAW                                          62

 VIII. THE MOQUI WHO WAS CAUGHT NAPPING                             71

   IX. "TALK ABOUT LUCK!"                                           79

    X. THE COPPER-COLORED MESSENGER                                 87

   XI. AT THE GRAND CANYON                                          98

  XII. HOW THE LITTLE TRAP WORKED                                  105

 XIII. GOING DOWN THE CANYON TRAIL                                 116

  XIV. THE HOME OF THE CLIFF DWELLERS                              124

   XV. THE TREACHEROUS GUIDE                                       135

  XVI. A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY                                       143

 XVII. THE WINDOWS IN THE ROCKY WALLS                              151

XVIII. FINDING A WAY UP                                            158

  XIX. FORTUNE STILL FAVORS THE BRAVE                              167

   XX. ANOTHER SURPRISE                                            175

  XXI. THE LITTLE OLD MAN OF ECHO CAVE                             184

 XXII. TURNING THE TABLES--CONCLUSION                              195




THE SADDLE BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON




CHAPTER I

THE WORK OF THE WOLF PACK


"Hold up, Bob!"

"Any signs of the lame yearling, Frank?"

"Well, there seems to be something over yonder to the west; but the sage
crops up, and interferes a little with my view."

"Here, take the field glasses and look; while I cinch my saddle girth,
which has loosened again."

Frank Haywood adjusted the glasses to his eye. Then, rising in his
saddle, he gazed long and earnestly in the direction he had indicated.
Meanwhile his companion, also a lad, a native of Kentucky, and answering
to the name of Bob Archer, busied himself about the band of his saddle,
having leaped to the ground.

Frank was the only son of a rancher and mine owner, Colonel Leonidas
Haywood, who was a man of some wealth. Frank had blue eyes, and
tawny-colored hair; and, since much of his life had been spent on the
plains among the cattle men, he knew considerable about the ways of
cowboys and hunters, though always ready to pick up information from
veterans of the trail.

Bob had come to the far Southwest as a tenderfoot; but, being quick to
learn, he hoped to graduate from that class after a while. Having always
been fond of outdoor sports in his Kentucky home, he was, at least, no
greenhorn. When he came to the new country where his father was
interested with Frank's in mining ventures, Bob had brought his favorite
Kentucky horse, a coal-black stallion known as "Domino," and which vied
with Frank's native "Buckskin" in good qualities.

These two lads were so much abroad on horseback that they had become
known as the "Saddle Boys." They loved nothing better than to ride the
plains, mounted on their pet steeds, and go almost everywhere the
passing whim tempted them.

Of course, in that wonderland there was always a chance for adventure
when one did much wandering; and that Frank and Bob saw their share of
excitement can be readily understood. Some of the strange things that
happened to them have already been narrated in the first volume of this
series, "The Saddle Boys of the Rockies, Or, Lost on Thunder Mountain,"
and which, in a way, is an introduction to the present story. In the
first book the boys cleared up a wonderful mystery concerning a great
cavern.

For several minutes Bob was busily engaged with the saddle girth that
had been giving him considerable trouble on this gallop.

"There," he remarked, finally, throwing down the flap as though
satisfied with his work. "I reckon I've got it fixed now so that it will
hold through the day; but I need a new girth, and when we pull up again
at Circle Ranch I'll see about getting it. Oh! did you make out anything
with the glasses, Frank?"

He sprang into the saddle like one who had spent much of his time on
horseback. Domino curvetted and pranced a little, being still full of
mettle and spirits; but a very firm hand held him in.

"Take the glass, and see if you can make out what it is," Frank
remarked, as if he hardly knew himself, or felt like trusting his eyes.

A minute later Bob lowered the glasses.

"There's something on the ground, and I can catch a glimpse of what
looks like a dun-colored hide through the tufts of buffalo grass. The
yearling was red, you said, Frank? All right. Then I reckon we'll find
her there; but not on her feet."

"Come on!"

As he said these curt words Frank let Buckskin have his head; and,
accompanied by his chum, started at a full gallop over the level, in the
direction of the spot where the dun-colored object had been sighted.

Shortly afterward they topped a little rise, and pulled up. No need to
doubt their eyes now. Just before them lay the mangled remains of the
lame yearling, very little being left to tell the story of how the
animal had met its fate.

"Wolves!" said Frank, gloomily, as he sat looking down at the torn hide.

"I don't know the signs as well as you, Frank, but I'd say the same from
general indications. And they had a royal good feast, too. This makes a
round half dozen head your father has lost in the last month, doesn't
it?" asked Bob.

"Seven, all told. When Bart Heminway told me he had noticed that one of
those fine yearlings seemed lame, I wondered if something wasn't going
to happen to it soon. And then, when we missed it from the herd last
night, I guessed what had come about. They caught her behind the rest,
and pulled her down. The poor thing didn't have a ghost of a show
against that pack of savage wolf-dogs."

"I'd like to have just one chance at them, that's all," grumbled Bob, as
he let his hand fondle the butt of a modern repeating rifle, which he
carried fastened to his saddle.

"This is sure the limit, and it's just got to stop!" declared Frank,
grimly.

"Right now?" queried his chum, eagerly.

Two pairs of flashing eyes met, the black ones sending a challenge
toward the blue.

"Why not?" said Frank, shutting his jaws hard, "the day is before us
still; and we're well primed for the business of hunting that pack to
their den. Look at that bunch of rocks a few miles off; that must be
where they hang out, Bob! Queer that none of the boys have ever thought
of hunting in this quarter for that old she-wolf Sallie, and her brood."

"Then you think she did it, do you?" asked Bob.

"Sure she did. You can see for yourself where her jaws closed on the
throat of the poor yearling. Everybody knows her trademark. That sly
beast has been the bane of the cattle ranches around here for several
years. They got to calling her Sallie in fun; but it's been serious
business lately; and many a cowboy'd ride two hundred miles for a chance
to knock her over."

"And yet none of the rough riders have even thought to search that rocky
pile for her den, you say?" Bob continued.

"Why, you see, the killings have always been in other directions," Frank
explained. "Just as shrewd animals often do, up to now Sallie has never
pulled down a calf anywhere near her den. I reckon she just knew it
might cause a search. But this time she's either grown over-bold, or
else the pack started to do the business in spite of her, and she was
forced into the game."

"Well, shall we head for that elevation, and see what we can find?"
asked Bob, who was inclined to be a little impatient.

"Wait a bit. It would be ten times better if we could only track the
greedy pack direct; but that's a hard proposition, here on the open,"
Frank observed.

"Well, what can we do then?" his chum asked.

"Perhaps put it in the hands of the best trailer in Arizona," and with a
laugh Frank pointed off to the left.

The Kentucky boy turned his head in surprise, and then exclaimed:

"Old Hank Coombs, on his pony, as sure as anything! You knew he was
coming along all the while, and just kept mum. But I'm sure glad to see
the old cowman right now. And it may turn out to be a day of reckoning
for that cunning Sallie, and her half grown cubs."

The two lads waved their range hats, and sent out a salute that was
readily answered by the advancing cowman. Hank Coombs was indeed a
veteran in the cattle line, having been one of the very first to throw a
rope, and "mill" stampeding steers in Texas, and farther to the west.

He was an angular old fellow, grim looking in his greasy leather
"chaps;" but with a twinkle in his eyes that told of the spirit of fun
that had never been quenched by the passage of time.

"Howdy, boys," he called out, as he drew rein alongside the two lads.
"What's this here yer lookin' at? Another dead calf? No, I swan if it
ain't a yearling as has been pulled down now. Things seem t' be gittin'
t' a warm pass when sech doin' air allowed. Huh! an' it looks like
Sallie's work, too! That sly ole critter is goin' t' git t' the end of
her rope some fine day."

"Why not to-day, Hank?" demanded Frank, briskly.

The veteran grinned, as though he had half anticipated having such a
question asked.

"So, that's the way the wind blows, hey?" he remarked, slowly; and then
he nodded his small head approvingly. "Jest as you say, Frank, thar's no
time like the present t' do things. The hull pack hes been here, I see,
an' no matter how cunning old Sallie allers shows herself, a chain's
only as strong as th' weakest link. One of her cubs will sure leave
tracks we kin foller. All right, boys count on me t' back ye up. I'll go
wharever ye say, Frank."

"We'll follow the trail, if there is one," said Frank, instantly; "but
the chances are that's where we'll bring up," and he pointed with his
quirt in the direction of the rocky uplift that stood like a landmark
in the midst of the great level sea of purple sage brush, marking the
plain.

After one good look the cowman nodded his head again in the affirmative.

"Reckon as how y'r' right, Frank," he remarked; "but we'll see how the
trail heads."

Throwing himself from his saddle he bent down over the remains of the
yearling that had been so unfortunate as to become lame, and thus,
lagging far behind the rest of the herd, fallen a victim to the wolf
pack.

"Easy as fallin' off a log," announced old Hank, immediately. "Jest as I
was sayin', thar's nearly allers one clumsy cub as don't hev half sense;
an' I kin foller this trail on horseback, 'pears to me."

He ran it out a little way; then, once more mounting, went on ahead,
with his keen eyes fastened on the ground.

Bob watched his actions with the greatest of interest. He knew Old Hank
was discovering a dozen signs that would be utterly invisible to one who
had not had many years of practice in tracking both wild animals and
human beings.

Now and then the trailer would draw in his horse, as though desirous of
looking more carefully at the ground. Twice he even dropped off and bent
low, to make positive his belief.

"I reckon you were right, Frank," remarked Bob, after half an hour of
this sort of travel "because, you see, even if the trail did lead away
from the rocks at first, it's heading that way now on a straight line."

"Thet was only the cuteness of the ole wolf," said Hank. "She's up t'
all the dodges goin'. But that comes a day of reckonin' for all her
kind; an' her's orter be showin' up right soon."

When another half hour passed the three riders had reached the border of
the strange pile of rocks. And as Frank looked up at the rough heap,
with its many crevices and angles, he considered that it certainly must
offer an ideal den to any wild beast wishing to hide through the
daytime, and prowl forth when darkness and night lay upon the land.

"Here's whar the trail ends at the rocks," said Hank, as he dismounted
and threw the bridle over the head of his horse, cowboy fashion, knowing
that under ordinary conditions the animal would remain there, just as if
hobbled, or staked out.

Both of the saddle boys followed his example, and, holding their rifles
ready, prepared to search the rocks for some trace of the wolf den. Wild
animals may be very cunning about locating their retreat in a place
where it will be hidden from the eye of a casual passer; but, in course
of time, they cannot prevent signs from accumulating, calculated to
betray its presence to one who is keenly on the watch.

The three searchers had not been moving back and forth among the piles
of rocks more than ten minutes when Old Hank was observed to raise his
head, smile, and sniff the air with more or less eagerness.

"Must be close by, boys," he said, positively. "I kin git the rank odor
that allers hangs 'round the den of wild animals as brings meat home,
an' leaves the bones. The air is a-comin' from that quarter, an' chances
are we'll find the hole sumwhar over yonder."

"I think I see it," said Frank, eagerly. "Just above that little spur
there's a black looking crevice in the rock."

"As dark as my hat," added Hank; "an' I reckon as how that's whar Sallie
lives when she's t' home. Now t' invite ourselves int' her leetle
parlor, boys!"




CHAPTER II

RIDDING THE RANGE OF A PEST


"Well, what do you think now, Frank?" asked Bob, as they stood in front
of that gloomy looking crevice, and observed the marks of many claws
upon the discolored rock, where hairy bodies had drawn themselves along
countless times.

"I'm wondering," the other replied; "what ails our boys at the ranch
never to have suspected that old Sallie had her den, and raised her
broods, so close to the Circle Ranch. Why, right now we're not more'n
ten miles, as the crow flies, away from home. And for years this
terrible she-wolf has lived on the calves and partly grown animals
belonging to cattlemen in this neck of the land. It makes me tired to
think of it!"

"But Frank, it's a long lane that has no turning," remarked Bob; "and
just now we've got to the bend. Sallie has invited her fate once too
often. That lame yearling is going to spell her finish, if Old Hank here
has his way."

"It sure is," agreed Frank. "And when we get back home with the hide of
that old pest fastened to a saddle, the boys will be some sore to think
how anyone of the lot might have done the job, if they'd only turned
this way."

"But what's Hank going to do?" asked the Kentucky boy, watching the
veteran cow-puncher searching on the ground under a stunted pinon tree
that chanced to grow where there was a small bit of soil among the
rocks.

"I don't know for a dead certainty," replied the other; "but I rather
think he's picking up some pieces of wood that might make good torches."

"Whew! then he means that we're to go into the cave, and get our
game--is that it, Frank?" demanded the other, unconsciously tightening
his grip on his rifle, as he glanced once more toward that yawning
crevice, leading to unknown depths, where the wolf pack lurked during
the daytime to issue forth when night came around.

"That would be just like the old chap, for he knows nothing of fear,"
Frank replied; "but of course there's no necessity for _both_ of us to
go with him. One might remain here, so as to knock over any stray beast
that managed to escape the attention of those who went in."

"All right; where will you take up your stand, Frank?" asked Bob,
instantly; at which his chum laughed, as though tickled.

"So you think I'd consent to stay out here tamely, while you two were
having a regular circus in there?" he remarked. "That would never suit
me. And it's easy to see that you count on a ticket of admission to
Sallie's parlor, too. Well, then, we'll all go, and share in the danger,
as well as the sport. For to rid the range country of this pest I
consider the greatest favor under the sun. But there comes Hank with a
bundle of torches under his arm."

"We're off, then!" chuckled Bob.

"Make sure o' yer guns, lads," said the cowman, as he came up; "because,
in a case like this, when ye want t' shoot it's apt t' be in a hurry.
An' anybody as knows what a fierce critter ole Sallie is, kin tell ye
it'll take an ounce of lead, put in the right place, t' down her fur
keeps."

"I'm ready," Frank assured the old hunter.

"Then, jest as soon's I kin git this flare goin' we'll push in." Hank
announced.

"Will we be able to see the game with such a poor light?" asked Bob, a
trifle nervously, as his mind went back to school days, to remember what
he had read of that old Revolutionary patriot, Israel Putnam, entering a
wolf's den alone, and killing the beast in open fight; truth to tell Bob
had never seen a real den in which wild beasts hid from the sun; and
imagination doubled its perils in his mind.

"Fust thing ye see'll be some yaller eyes starin' at ye outen the
dark," said Hank, obligingly. "Then, when I gives the word, both of ye
let go, aimin' direct atween the yaller spots."

"But what if we miss, and the beast attacks us?" Bob went on, wishing to
be thoroughly posted before venturing into that hole.

"In case of a mix-up," the veteran went on; "every feller is for
hisself; only, recerlect thar mustn't be any shootin' at close quarters.
Use yer knives, or else swat her over the head with yer clubbed guns.
We're bound t' git Sallie this time, by hook er by crook! Ready, son?"

Both boys declared that they had no reason for delaying matters. Since
it had been decided as best to invade the wolf den, the sooner they
started, the better.

True, Bob thought that had it been left to him, he would have first
tried to smoke out the occupants of the cleft, waiting near by to shoot
them down as they rushed out of the depths. But then Hank was directing
matters now, and whatever he said must be done.

Besides, Hank had known wolves ever since he first "toted" a gun, now
more than fifty-five years ago. Perhaps he understood how difficult it
is to smoke out a pack of wolves, that invariably seek a cave with a
depth sufficient to get away from all the influences of the smudge.

Without the slightest hesitation Old Hank got down on hands and knees,
and began to crawl into the gaping mouth of the crevice.

It did not go straight in, but seemed to twist around more or less. All
the while the two boys kept close at the heels of the guide who carried
that flaring torch. They watched ahead to detect the first sign of the
enemy; and had their ears on the alert with the same idea in view.

Stronger grew the odor that invariably marks the den of carnivorous
animals.

"We ought to stir her up soon now, Frank," whispered Bob, on whom the
strain was bearing hard, since he was not used to anything of this sort.

"Yes, unless the sly old beast has a back door to her home; how about
that, Hank?" asked the cattleman's son.

"Don't reckon as how it's so," came the ready response. "In thet event,
we'd feel a breath of fresh air; an' ye knows as how we don't. Stiddy
boys, keep yer wits about ye! She's clost by, now!"

"I heard a growl!" admitted Bob.

"And there were whines too, from the half grown cubs," ventured Frank.

"Once we turn this bend just ahead, likely enough we'll be in the mess,"
Bob remarked.

"Range on both sides of me, boys," directed Hank, halting, so that they
could overtake him; because he knew full well that the crisis of this
bold invasion of the she-wolf's den was near at hand.

In this fashion, then, the three turned the rocky corner.

"I see the yellow eyes!" whispered Bob, beginning to bring his gun-stock
nearer to his shoulder. "Say, there's a whole raft of 'em, Frank!"

"Sure," came the quick reply, close to his ear. "Hank said there was
about five of the brood. Hold your fire, Bob. Pick out the mother wolf
first."

"That's what I want to do; but how can I make sure?" demanded the
Kentucky lad, trying his best to keep his hands from trembling with
excitement.

He had sunk down upon one knee. This allowed him to rest his elbow on
the knee that was in position, always a favorite attitude with Bob when
using a rifle.

"Take the eyes that are above all the rest, and which seem so much
larger and fiercer. Are you on, Bob?" continued the other, who was also
handling his gun with all the eagerness of a sportsman.

"Yes," came the firm reply.

"Then let her go!"

The last word was drowned in a terrific roar, for when a gun is fired
in confined space the din is tremendous. Even as he pulled the trigger
Bob knew that luck was against him; for the animal had moved at a time
when he could not delay the pressure of his finger.

He heard a second report close beside him. Frank had also fired,
realizing what had occurred, and that in all probability the first
bullet would only wound the savage beast, without putting an end to her
activities.

The torch went sputtering to the floor of the cave, having been knocked
from the hand of Hank when the wolf struck him heavily. He could be
heard trying to rescue it before it went completely out, all the while
letting off a volley of whoops and directions.

Fortunately Frank had kept his wits about him. And his rifle was still
gripped firmly in his hands, he having instantly pumped a new cartridge
into the chamber after firing. The half grown cubs showed an inclination
to follow their mother in her headlong attack on the human invaders of
the den; for the numerous gleaming pairs of eyes were undoubtedly
advancing when Frank turned his gun loose on them.

The din was simply terrific. Bob was more concerned with the possibility
of an attack from the ferocious mother wolf then anything else. He had
lost track of her after that first furious rush, and crouching there,
was trying the best he knew how to locate the creature again.

Meanwhile Old Hank had succeeded in picking up the torch, which, being
held in an upright position, began to shed a fair amount of light once
more.

Not seeing anything else at which he could fire, Bob now started in to
assist his chum get rid of the ugly whelps that were advancing,
growling, snarling, and in various other ways proving how they had
inherited the fearless nature of the beast that had nursed them in that
den.

Perhaps it was all one-sided, since the animals never had a chance to
get in touch with the invaders. Neither of the boys ever felt very proud
of the work; but in view of the tremendous amount of damage a pack of
hungry wolves can do on a cattle ranch, or in a sheepfold, they had no
scruples concerning the matter. Besides, every one along the Arizona
border hated a wolf almost as badly as they did a cowardly coyote; for
while the former may be bolder than the beast that slinks across the
desert looking for carrion, its capacity for mischief is a good many
times as great.

"I don't see any more eyes, Frank!" called out Bob, presently, as he
tried to penetrate the cloud of powder-smoke that surrounded both of
them.

"That's because we got 'em all, I reckon," replied his chum. "How about
that, Hank?"

"Cleaned the hull brood out, son," replied the other, chuckling; "an' no
mistake about it either."

"But where did the big one go to; has she escaped after all?" asked Bob,
with a note of regret in his voice; for he thought the blame would be
placed on him, for having made a poor shot when he had such a splendid
chance to finish the animal.

"Oh! I wouldn't worry myself about her, Bob," chuckled Frank, who had
already made a discovery; and as he spoke he pointed to a spot close by,
where, huddled in a heap, lay the heavy body of the fiercest cattle
thief known for years along the border.

"She was mortally hurted by the fust shot," said Hank, as they stood
over the gaunt animal, and surveyed her proportions with almost a touch
of awe; "but seemed like the critter had enough strength left t' make
thet leap, as nigh knocked me flat. Then she jest keeled over, an' guv
up the ghost. Arter this the young heifers kin stray away from their
mother's sides, without bein' dragged off. Thar'll be a vote o' thanks
sent ter ye, Bob, from every ranch inside of fifty mile, 'cause of what
ye did when ye pulled trigger this day."

Hank, being an experienced worker, did not take very long to secure the
pelt of the dead terror of the desert. Then they left the rocks, finding
their horses just where they had left them.

All of the animals showed signs of alarm when they scented the skin of
the wolf; and Domino in particular pranced and snorted at a great rate
since his education had been neglected in this particular. So Hank,
having the best trained steed in the bunch, insisted on carrying the
pelt with him on their return trip to the ranch.

Ten miles, as the crow flies, and they would be at home; and with
comparatively fresh steeds, that should not count for more than an
hour's gallop.

Before they had gone three miles, however, Bob called the attention of
his chum to a horseman who was galloping toward them. It was a cowboy,
and he waved his broad-brimmed hat over his head as he came sweeping
forward.

"Is he doing stunts; or does he want us?" asked Bob.

"It's Ted Conway," replied Frank, with a sudden look of anxiety; "one of
the steadiest boys at the ranch; and he acts as if something had
happened at home!"




CHAPTER III

THE FLOATING BOTTLE


Waving his hat after the extravagant manner of his kind, the cowboy
swept constantly nearer the little party. Indeed, it was impossible for
them to guess whether Ted Conway bore a message, or was simply delighted
to see the son of his employer, and his chum.

Presently he reached the constantly advancing trio, and under the pull
of the reins his pony reared upon its hind legs.

"What's wrong, Ted?" asked Frank, immediately.

"Wanted at the ranch, Frank," came the answer. "The boss has sent me out
to look you up on the jump. Told me as how you started out on a gallop
this way, an' I took chances. Reckon I was some lucky to strike you so
easy."

"But what has happened, Ted?" insisted the boy, trying to read the
bronzed face of the other, and get a hint as to whether his mission
verged on the serious or not.

It was so very unusual for Colonel Haywood to send anyone out to find
him, that Frank's suspicions were naturally aroused.

"Well, the Colonel had a little tumble with that game leg of his--same
one that the steer fell on, and broke two years back, in the big
round-up--" began the cowboy, when Frank interrupted him.

"Then he must have been seriously hurt this time, or he wouldn't send
you out for me. Tell me the worst, Ted; you ought to realize that it's
better for me to know it all in the start, than by degrees. Is my father
dead?"

"No. Last I seen of the Colonel, he was a real live man; only he had his
leg done up agin in splints; an' the ole doc. from the Arrowhead Ranch
was thar, 'tending to him. No, it ain't on count of his leetle trouble
with that leg that made him send me out huntin' for you, Frank."

"What then?" demanded the boy, curtly; but with a sigh of relief, for
his father was very dear to him.

"Thar come a messenger to the ranch a while ago, an' somethin' he
fetched along with him, 'peared to excite the boss right from the word
go," Ted admitted.

"A messenger, Ted?" the boy echoed, wonderingly.

"Never seen him afore, an' think he kim from town," the new arrival went
on to say. "Leastwise, he looked like a stray maverick, an' had a
b'iled shirt, with a collar that I reckoned sure would choke him. Atween
you an' me I tried to get him to chuck the same; but he only grinned,
an' allowed he could stand it."

"Oh! a messenger from town, was it?" said Frank, with a relieved look.
"Then the chances are it must have been some business connected with a
shipment of cattle. Perhaps the railroad has had a bad wreck, and wants
to settle for that last bunch we sent away."

But Ted shook his head in the negative.

"'T'wan't no railroad man; that I know," he affirmed, positively.
"'Sides, the boss was holdin' of a bottle in his hand, an' seemed to set
a heap of store by it."

"A bottle, Ted?" cried Frank, deeply interested.

"That's what," replied the cowboy, energetically. "But jest why he
should reckon such a thing wuth shucks I can't tell ye. But he sent me
out to bring you back to the ranch house like two-forty. I seen that he
was plumb locoed, and some excited by the news, whatever it might be."

Frank looked at his chum in a puzzled way, and shook his head.

"I don't seem able to make head or tail of this business, Bob," he
remarked; "but there's only one thing to be done, and that's to romp
home on the gallop. So away we go with a rush. Who's after me! Hi! get
long, Buckskin! It's a race for a treat of oats as a prize! Here you
are, Bob; hit up the pace!"

With the words Frank gave his horse free rein, and went tearing over the
level plain, headed as straight for the distant ranch as though he were
a bird far up in the clear air, and could see to make a direct line "as
the crow flies!"

And after a time, in the distance, they saw the whitewashed outbuildings
of Circle Ranch. Frank never viewed the familiar and dearly loved scene
with more anxiety than he did now; but so far as he could see there did
not appear to be anything out of the ordinary taking place around the
ranch house.

"Looks all right, Bob!" exclaimed Frank, as though a great load had been
taken from his heart.

The sudden coming of Ted Conway, with that queer message that meant a
hurried return, had mystified the boy not a little. But he knew that all
would soon be made plain now, since they were nearly home.

Dashing up in front of the house, the two lads jumped to the ground
almost before their mounts had come to a halt. The door was open, and
Frank led the way in a headlong rush.

As they entered he saw his father seated in his comfortable easy-chair,
with that unfortunate leg, that had given him more or less trouble for
two years now, propped on another seat, and bound up.

There was a stranger with him, but no sign of the Arrowhead Ranch cowboy
doctor; which would indicate that, having done his duty, the roving
physician and bone-setter had returned to his regular business, which
was roping and branding cattle.

Colonel Haywood was a man in the prime of life. Up to the time that
clumsy steer had broken his leg he had been most active; but since then
he had not been able to get around on his feet so well, though able to
ride fairly comfortably.

"Hello! Frank, my boy!" he exclaimed, as the two came rushing in. "So
Ted managed to round you up in great style; did he? Well, I always said
Ted was the sharpest fellow on the range when it came to finding things.
Where have you been to-day?"

"Doing a little missionary work for the country," replied Frank,
smiling. "We came across that lame pet yearling, the dun-colored one you
thought so much of; and there was mighty little left of the poor beast
but a torn hide, not worth lifting."

"Huh! wolves again!" exclaimed the stock-raiser, with a frown.

"Sure thing, sir," Frank went on. "We saw a heap of signs that told us
our old friend, Sallie, with the broken tooth, had been on the job
again. But that was the last of our beef the old lady'll ever taste, or
anybody else's, for that matter."

"What's that? Did you sight her, and get a shot?" demanded the pleased
rancher, forgetting his broken leg in his excitement, and making a
movement that immediately caused him to give a grunt, and settle back
again.

"Old Hank happened to run across our trail just then," Frank continued;
"and we made up our minds to track the beast to her lair. Where do you
suppose we found it, dad, but in the big bunch of rocks that lies about
ten miles to the west?"

"You surprise me; but go on, tell me the rest, and then I'm going to let
you in on something that will open your eyes a little," remarked the
stockman.

"Oh! there isn't much more to tell, dad," the boy hastened to say, for
he was eager to learn what all this mystery meant. "We found the
opening, easy enough, and made up our minds to crawl in after Sallie,
the whole three of us. So Hank picked up some wood for a flare, and in
we went."

"And you found her home? You met with a warm reception, I warrant!" the
other exclaimed, his eyes kindling with pride as he saw the quiet,
confident air with which Frank rattled off his story.

"Sallie was in, ditto five of her half-grown brood, and all full of
fight," the boy continued. "But of course they didn't have a ghost of a
show against our two repeating rifles. Hank held the torch, and Bob
fired first. Then the brute jumped, and nearly got Hank, who lost the
flare for a few seconds. We keeled over the ugly whelps as they started
for us; and later on found old Sallie, just as she had dropped. That big
jump was her last."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, son," declared the rancher, who had
suffered long and seriously from the depredations of that sly animal and
her various broods, despite all efforts to locate her, and put an end to
her attacks.

"I'm glad you're pleased with what we did," Frank remarked.

"It will mean a lot to all honest ranchmen in this section," continued
the cattleman. "With Sallie gone, we can hope to raise a record herd the
coming season, without keeping men constantly on the watch, day and
night, for a slinking thief that defied our best efforts. Shake hands,
Bob, and let me congratulate you on making the shot that ended the
loping of the worst pest this country has known in five years."

"But when Ted came whirling along, shouting, and waving his hat, to tell
us you wanted me back home on the jump, it gave me a bad feeling, dad;
especially when I heard that you'd gone and hurt that leg again!" Frank
cried, as he, too, seized the other hand of his father, and squeezed it
affectionately.

"But I told Ted to be sure and let you know that it was not on account
of my new upset that I wanted you back," declared the ranchman,
frowning.

"Yes, he delivered the message all right, dad; but all the same I was
bothered a heap, let me tell you," Frank went on. "And now, please, tell
us what it's all about; won't you; and what this gentleman has to do
with it; also the bottle Ted said you were handling?"

At that Colonel Haywood smiled, and looked up at the stranger.

"This is a Mr. Hinchman, Frank," he remarked. "He lives in a small place
on the great Colorado River called Mohave City. And one day, not long
ago, a man who was fishing on the river at a place where an eddy set in,
found a curious bottle floating, that was sealed with red wax on the
top, and seemed to contain only a piece of paper. This is the bottle,"
and as he spoke he opened a drawer of the desk, and drew out the flask
in question.

Frank took it, and turned it around. So far as he could see it was an
ordinary bottle. It contained no cork, but there were signs of sealing
wax around the top.

"Mr. Hinchman, is, I believe," the ranchman went on, "though he has been
too modest to say so himself, a gentleman of some importance in Mohave
City, which accounted for the fisherman fetching his queer find to him.
The bottle had evidently come down the great river, perhaps for one or
two hundred miles, escaping destruction from contact with rocks in a
marvelous manner, and finally falling into the hands of one who had both
the time and the curiosity to examine its sealed contents."

Colonel Haywood thereupon took up a small piece of paper from the pad of
the desk.

"This is what he found in the bottle, Frank," continued the stockman.
"It bore my address, and the name of my ranch here; so thinking that it
might be something more than a practical joke he concluded to journey
all the way across the country to see me. It was a mighty nice thing for
Mr. Hinchman to do, and something I am not apt to forget in a hurry,
either."

"Then the paper interested you, dad, it seems?" Frank remarked, eagerly.

"It certainly did, son, and I rather think you will feel the same as I
did when I tell you whose name is written at the bottom of this little
communication," the cattleman went on.

"All right, I'm ready to hear it," Frank remarked, laughingly.

"Felix Oswald!" replied his father, quickly.

The boy was indeed intensely surprised, if one could judge from his
manner.

"Your Uncle Felix, dad, who has been gone these three years, and whose
mysterious disappearance set the whole scientific world guessing. And
you say his name is there, signed to that paper found in the sealed
bottle? Well, you sure have given me a surprise. Then he's still alive?"

"He seemed to be when he wrote this," the cattleman said, reflectively;
"but as he failed to put any date on it, we can only guess how long the
bottle has been cruising down the Colorado, sucked into eddies that
might hold it for weeks or months, until a rise in the river sent it
forth again."

"Say, doesn't that beat everything you ever heard of, Bob?" declared
Frank, turning to his chum.

"It certainly does," replied Bob, and then the ranchman's boy continued:

"Perhaps you remember me telling you some things about this queer old
uncle of dad's, Bob, and how, after he had made a name for himself, he
suddenly vanished in a night, leaving word behind that he was going to
study the biggest subject any man could ever tackle. And as he didn't
want to be bothered, he said he would leave no address behind. They've
looked for him all over Europe, Asia and Africa, but he was never heard
from again. And now to think that he's sent word to dad; and in a sealed
bottle too!"

"That looks as if he must be somewhere on the Colorado River, don't it?"
suggested Bob.

"Undoubtedly," replied the stockman; "in fact, in this brief
communication he admits that he is located somewhere along the Grand
Canyon, in a place where travelers have as yet never penetrated. I can
only guess that Uncle Felix must have been seized with a desire to
unearth treasures that might tell the history of those strange old cliff
dwellers, who occupied much of that country as long as eight hundred
years ago. All he mentions about his hiding place is to call it Echo
Cave. You never heard of such a place, did you, Mr. Hinchman; and you've
lived on the lower river many years?"

"I never did, Colonel," replied the man from Mohave City; "and perhaps
few people have climbed through that wonderful gash in the surface of
the Arizona desert as many times as I have."

"In this brief note," continued Colonel Haywood, "Uncle Felix simply
says that he has become aware of the passage of time; and since his
labors are not yet completed, and he does not wish to allow his friends
to believe him dead, he has concluded to communicate with me, his
nephew. And as he knew of no other way of doing so, he resorted to the
artifice of the floating bottle."

"Mighty considerate of him, that's sure," chuckled Frank. "Been gone now
two or three years, and suddenly remembers that there are people who
might worry about his dropping out of sight."

"But son," remarked the stockman, "don't forget that Uncle Felix is
wrapped up in his profession, and cares very little about the ties of
this world. I know him well enough for that. But it happens, singularly
enough, that just now it is of the greatest importance he should be
found, and communicated with. I would undertake the task myself, only
for this unfortunate break that is bound to keep me laid up for another
month or two. The doctor set my leg afresh, and tells me that this time
I will really get perfectly well, given time. But it's hard to think
that my cousin Janice, his only child, will lose so great a sum if some
one fails to locate Uncle Felix, and get his signature to a paper inside
of another month."

"Why, how is that, father?" asked Frank.

"Circumstances have arisen that will throw a fortune into her hands;"
the stockman continued; "but the time limit approaches, and if his
signature is not forthcoming others will reap the benefit, particularly
that rascally cousin of mine, Eugene Warringford. You remember meeting
him a year ago, Frank, when he came around asking many questions, as
though he might have tracked his uncle out this way, and then lost the
trail?"

"Why not send us, dad?" demanded Frank, standing up in front of the
stockman, with a smile of confidence on his face.




CHAPTER IV

THE LISTENER UNDER THE WINDOW


"That was what I had in mind, Frank, when I hurried Ted Conway out to
find you both," Colonel Haywood remarked, his face filled with pride and
confidence.

"Will you let me see the note, please?" asked Bob; who expected some day
to study to be a lawyer, his father's family having had several Kentucky
judges among their number.

Just as the owner of the ranch had said, the communication was
exceedingly brief, and to the point, not an unnecessary word having been
written. It was in pencil, and the handwriting was crabbed; just what
one might expect of an elderly man, given over heart and soul to
scientific research.

"I suppose you know the writing well enough to feel sure this came from
your noted uncle, sir?" asked Bob, as he turned the paper over.

"Certainly, Bob," replied the cattleman, promptly. "There is not the
least possibility of it's being a practical joke. Nobody out here knows
anything about my uncle, who disappeared so long ago. Yes, you can set
it down as positive that the letter is genuine enough. He's located
somewhere up in that most astonishing hole, the greatest wonder, most
people admit, in the entire world. But just how you two boys are ever
going to find him is another question."

"We can try, dad; and that's all you could do if you were able to tramp.
It happens that the Grand Canyon isn't more than a hundred and thirty
miles from our ranch here, and we can ride that in a few days. How do
you feel about it, Bob?"

"Nothing would please me better," replied the other boy, quickly, his
face lighting up with delight at the prospect of a long ride in the
saddle, to be followed by days, and perhaps weeks, of roaming through
that wonderland, where Nature had outdone all her other works in trying
to heap up astonishing surprises.

"So far as I'm concerned," Frank went on, "I've always wanted to visit
the Grand Canyon, and meant to do it some day later on. Of course I've
seen what the little Colorado has to show, because it's only a long
day's ride off. Mr. Hinchman can, I reckon, give us some points about
the place, and maybe even mention several smaller canyons where we might
be likely to find Uncle Felix in Echo Cave."

"Which I'll be only too happy to attempt," answered the gentleman from
Mohave City; "and as I said before, I know considerable about the
mysteries of the big hole in the desert, all of which is at your
service. Somehow, the queer way that message in the floating bottle came
to me, excited my curiosity; and I'll be satisfied if I can only have a
hand in the finding of the noted gentleman who, as your father has been
telling me, vanished in the midst of his fame."

"And now, dad, please explain just what we are to do in case luck
follows us in our hunt, and we run across the professor," said Frank.

"You are to explain to him that the long option which he held on that
San Bernardino mine will expire in one more month. The work had been
going on in a listless way for three years. All at once some time back
they struck a wonderfully rich lode, and vein has been followed far
enough to show that it is bound to be a record breaker."

"That sounds great!" declared the deeply interested Bob.

"The mine couldn't be bought for a million to-day," continued the
stockman; "and yet Uncle Felix is probably carrying around with him (for
it couldn't be found at his home) a little legal document whereby it
will become his sole property in case he chooses to plank down the
modest sum of twenty thousand dollars by the thirtieth of next month!"

"Whew! that's going some, eh, Bob?" exclaimed Frank, with a little
whistle that accentuated his surprise.

"Then if we are fortunate enough to find Uncle Felix before that time
has expired, what shall we do, sir?" asked the precise Bob, who was
always keeping an eye out for the legal aspect of things.

"Coax him to accompany you to the nearest notary public, where he can
sign his acceptance of the terms under which he holds the option on the
San Bernardino. But if this happens after the thirtieth it is all wasted
energy; for at midnight of that day, I happen to know, the option
expires," the ranchman continued, somewhat impressively.

Just as he finished speaking he suddenly turned toward the window, at
which his keen vision had caught sight of a moving shadow, as though
someone might have been crouching without, and listening.

"Who is there at the window?" he called out, sternly.

All eyes were turned that way. After several seconds had passed a figure
rose up, and a head was thrust through the opening. It belonged to a
dark-faced cow-puncher, named Abajo, who was supposed to be a half-breed
Mexican. Although never a favorite with the owner of the Circle Ranch,
Abajo was a first-class handler of the rope, and could ride a horse as
well as anyone. He had been employed by Colonel Haywood for half a year.
He talked "United States," as Frank was used to saying, as well as the
average cowman. But Frank had never liked the fellow. There seemed
something crafty in his ways that was foreign to the make-up of the boy.

"It's only me, boss," said Abajo, with an attempt at a grin. "I wanted
to ask you about that job you set me on yesterday. I took Pete along,
and we found the lost bunch of stock in a valley ten mile away from
Thunder Mountain in the Fox Canyon country. Got 'em all safe in but
seven. Never seen hair nor hide of them; but after gettin' back it
struck me there was one place they might a strayed to that we didn't
look up. If so be you say the word I'll pick up Pete again, and make
another try."

"Why, of course you had better go, Abajo," remarked the stockman,
looking keenly at the other, for he did not like the way in which the
half-breed had been apparently loitering under that open window, as
though listening to all that was passing in the room beyond. "I told you
not to draw rein till you'd found all the missing stock; or knew what
had become of them. That's all, Abajo."

The Mexican cowboy hurried away. A minute later and they heard him
shouting to Pete; and then the clatter of horses' hoofs told that the
pair were galloping wildly across the open.

"I wonder how much he heard?" said Frank; from which it would appear
that he also suspected the other of having spied upon them for some
purpose.

"Much good it could have done him, even if he caught all we said,"
replied his father. "Because, of course, he doesn't know anything about
Uncle Felix; and couldn't be interested in whether he is living or
dead."

"No," remarked Mr. Hinchman, "but the mention of a mine going a-begging
that is worth a comfortable fortune, like a million or two, would
interest Abajo. I know his type pretty well, and you can rest assured
that they're always on the lookout for easy money."

"But didn't it strike you, dad," ventured Frank, "that his excuse for
being under that window was silly?"

"Yes, because Abajo has always been able to understand, without asking
what he should do under such conditions. He wanted some excuse for
drawing near the open window, and he found it. Perhaps he's heard
something about the coming of Mr. Hinchman here, and the queer finding
of the bottle that floated down the Colorado for one or two hundred
miles. I spoke to the foreman, Bart Heminway, about it."

"When would you want us to make a start?" asked Bob, looking as though
he might be ready to jump into his saddle then and there.

"Oh! there is no such rushing hurry as all that," replied the cattleman,
laughing at the eagerness of the two lads. "Your horses are a bit off,
just now, and after all that fight in the wolf den you boys need a
rest."

"But when do we start?" asked Frank.

"Suppose you get ready to move in the morning," Colonel Haywood replied,
after reflecting a moment. "That will give me time to write a letter to
Uncle Felix, so that you can deliver it, if you're lucky enough to find
his Echo Cave; and at the same time you can make up your packs; for you
will need blankets, and plenty of grub along."

"Well, I reckon you're right, dad," admitted Frank; "only it seems as if
we might be losing valuable time. All the same we're going to do just
what you say. Now, if you haven't anything more to tell us, we'll just
skip out, and begin looking up some of the supplies for our campaign in
the Grand Canyon."

"Get along with you, then," laughed the ranchman. "I want to ask Mr.
Hinchman a few more questions that have occurred to me since you came
home. And, boys, grub will be ready in a short time, now, for there's Ah
Sin stepping to the door every little while, to look around and see if
the boys are in sight. You know what that sign means."

Frank and his chum went off, to make out a list of things they would
take along with them on the strange expedition upon which they were
about to start on the following morning.

"What do you think of that slippery customer, Abajo?" Bob asked his
chum, as the afternoon waned, and they were sitting on the long porch of
the ranch house.

"I've never liked him ever since he came here; but dad was in need of
help, and the half-breed certainly knows his business to a dot," replied
Frank, who was examining the new girth his chum had attached to his
saddle, mentally deciding that whatever the young Kentuckian attempted,
he did neatly and well.

"Didn't I hear something about his being a relative to that Spanish Joe
who gave us so much trouble a little while back, on Thunder Mountain?"
Bob continued.

"Well, I couldn't say for sure, but some say he is a nephew," Frank
answered. "Both of them have Mexican blood in their veins; and, when you
come to think of it, there is some resemblance in their faces."

"But do you really think Abajo was listening?" the other asked.

"It looked like it; that's as far as I've got," laughed Frank.

"But," Bob protested, "even if he knew that there was a big fortune
connected with the paper this queer old professor carries on his person,
what good would that do Abajo?"

Frank shrugged his broad shoulders as he replied:

"Well, you never can tell what crazy notions some of these schemers
after a fortune will hatch up. He might make up his mind to start a
little hunt for the hermit of Echo Cave on his own hook; with the idea
of getting a transfer of that valuable paper."

"That's a fact!" declared Bob, looking interested. "Perhaps, after all,
we won't have our work cut out for us as easy as we thought."

"Small difference that will make," Frank went on, with a shutting of his
teeth that told of the spirit animating the boy when difficulties hove
in sight.

"I agree with you, all right, Frank," his companion remarked. "And
perhaps it'll only make the hunt all the more interesting if we believe
we've got opposition. You know how it was when Peg Grant threw his hat
in the ring, and tried to find out what made those queer sounds in the
heart of Thunder Mountain?"

"Sure I do," came the quick reply. "It stirred us up to doing bigger
stunts than if we'd thought we had it all our own way. Nothing like
competition to get the best out of any fellow."

"Correct you are, Frank. But speaking of Abajo, perhaps that's him
coming back now," and as he spoke the Kentucky boy pointed across to a
point where a single rider could be seen heading for the ranch house.

He was still far away, but the eyes of Frank Haywood were very keen.
Besides, he knew the "style" of every cowboy who was in the employ of
his father, and was able to pick them out almost as far as he could see
them.

"You're away off there, Bob," he remarked quietly.

"Then it isn't the half-breed?" asked his chum.

"I know the way that chap sits in the saddle," came the reply. "Only one
man on the pay roll of Circle Ranch holds himself that way. It's Pete."

"Pete Rawlings, the fellow who went with Abajo to round up the missing
cattle?" asked Bob.

"He's the one," Frank went on. "And from the fact that he rides alone, I
take it he's bringing news."

"Of the seven head of cattle that have disappeared, you mean, Frank?"

"Perhaps. They may have found them, and Abajo is standing by, while
Pete comes in to make some sort of report. There's that rustler bunch
that comes from the other side of the Gila river once in a while, under
Pedro Mendoza, you remember. But he'll soon be on deck, and then we'll
know. Come along, Bob, and we'll let dad hear that Pete is sighted.
He'll be interested some, I reckon."

A short time later the single rider threw himself from his saddle after
the usual impetuous manner of cowboys in general.

"Back again, Pete; and did you see anything of that seven head?" asked
Colonel Haywood, who had come outside.

"Ain't run across hair nor hide of 'em, Colonel," replied the squatty
cattleman, as he "waddled" up to the spot where the little group awaited
his coming; for like many of his kind, Pete was decidedly bow-legged,
possibly from riding a horse all his life; and his walk somewhat
resembled that of a sailor ashore after a long cruise.

"Where did you leave Abajo?" asked Frank, unable to restrain his
curiosity.

"Didn't leave him," replied the other, with a grin. "He gave me the
merry ha! ha! and said as how he reckoned he'd had enough of the old
Circle. Got his month's pay yesterday, you see, an' he's even. I
reckoned somethin' was in the wind when I seen him talkin' with that
feller."

"Who was that, Pete?" questioned Colonel Haywood; and the prompt answer
made Frank and Bob exchange significant looks, for it seemed to voice
their worst fears.

"A gent as you had avisitin' here some time back, Colonel. Reckon as how
he don't feel any too warm toward you, accordin' to the way he used to
bring them black brows of his'n down, when he thought you wa'n't
lookin'. And his name was Eugene Warringford."




CHAPTER V

STARTING FOR THE GRAND CANYON


No one appeared to be greatly surprised at this piece of news.
Apparently it had been already discounted in the mind of Frank, his
father, and even Bob Archer.

"So, that's the way the wind sets, is it?" remarked the colonel,
frowning.

"Anyhow, dad, that proves one thing," declared Frank.

"Meaning about that business of listening under the window?" observed
the owner of Circle Ranch. "It certainly does. Abajo has been in the
employ of Eugene Warringford from the start. But there must have been
some other good reason why that schemer wanted to find Uncle Felix. He
suspected that, sooner or later, the old gentleman would communicate
with me, because I used to be quite a favorite of his, years ago."

"Yes, and he sent the half-breed here to get employment from you just to
spy around," declared Frank. "All the time he was accepting your money,
he had a regular income from Eugene."

"Oh! well, he earned all he got here," said the ranchman, quickly. "Say
what I may about Abajo, he had no superior when it came to throwing the
rope, and rounding up a herd. Those Mexicans make the finest of cowboys.
They are at home in the saddle, every time."

"Also in hanging around under windows, and listening to what is said,"
added Frank. "As for me, I have little use for their breed. And, dad, if
ever you give me the reins here, no Mexican will ever get a job on old
Circle Ranch."

"Well," remarked the stockman, laughing at the vigor with which his son
and heir made this assertion, "perhaps I'm leaning that way myself.
After all, there's nothing like your own kind. We don't understand these
fellows. Their ways are not the same as ours; and I reckon we puncture
their pride often enough. But there's no trouble now about understanding
why Abajo gave us the go-by to-day."

"Huh! he had some news worth while carrying to his boss," said Frank.
"And I can just imagine how Eugene's little eyes will sparkle when he
hears about that valuable paper; eh, dad?"

"You're right, son," the ranchman replied. "Because, it stands to reason
he couldn't know anything about it before. The mine was a dead one up
to a few months back, when that lucky-find lode was struck by accident.
Eugene will put up a big chase to find this Echo Cave, now that he knows
Uncle Felix is located somewhere in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado."

"But it won't make a bit of difference in our plans, dad; will it?"
asked Frank.

"That depends on you two boys. If you think you can carry the game
along, even with Eugene against you, I see no reason to make any
change," the stockman replied, with a look that spoke of much
confidence.

The balance of the afternoon was spent in exchanging views, and much
study of the map of the famous canyon of the Colorado, which it happened
the ranch owner had in his desk.

All sorts of theories were advanced by first one and then another of the
group. It happened that Colonel Haywood himself had never as yet paid a
visit to the strange gash in the soil of northwestern Arizona; and he
admitted the fact with a rueful face.

"Then just as soon as you get well, dad, make up your mind you're going
to take a little vacation, and see the Grand Canyon," said Frank. "When
we come back, perhaps what we have to say will set you wild to go. And
we expect to bring news of old Uncle Felix too, if he's still in the
land of the living."

"Let's go over that ground again," remarked Bob.

"Now you're referring to what was said about the funny old stone
dwellings of the cliff dwellers, who used to live there centuries ago,"
remarked Frank.

"And he's right, too," declared the ranchman. "I get the point Bob
makes. It was about these wonderful people that Uncle Felix was so
deeply interested, and he made up his mind to shut himself away from all
the world, just to study up their history, as left in the holes in the
rock."

"And it would seem to follow, then," said Bob, readily, "that he will be
found located in one of those series of terraces where these holes are
discovered. I notice that there are a number of these villages connected
with the map of the Grand Canyon; but the chances are your Uncle Felix
wouldn't take up with any where tourist travel was common."

"Now, that sounds all right," admitted Frank. "In the first place he
would have been heard from long ago, if tourists ran across him; because
they always talk, and send their accounts to be published in the
papers."

"Besides, these scientific men hate to be watched when they're wrapped
up in work like this. I've known a couple back in Old Kentucky," Bob
went on.

"According to your idea, then," said the Colonel, nodding approvingly,
"this Echo Cave he mentions will prove to be some new place that the
ordinary tourist in the big canyon has never set eyes on?"

"That's my opinion, sir," replied Bob.

"And if that's so, then it wouldn't pay you boys to waste any time
looking into these ruins of the homes of the cliff dwellers located
around Grand View; and in Walnut Canyon, some nine miles from
Flagstaff," the ranchman continued.

"I think we'd save more or less time that way, sir," Bob declared.

"And you still want to go on horseback; when you might reach the
railroad, and take a train, easily enough?" asked Colonel Haywood.

The boys exchanged glances. They were wedded to the saddle, and disliked
the idea of leaving their favorite steeds behind them when embarking on
this new venture.

"We've picked out the trail we expect to follow, dad," Frank said,
pleadingly; "and it seems to run pretty smooth, with only a few
mountains to cross, and a couple of rivers to ford. If you don't object
seriously, Bob and I would prefer to go mounted."

"Oh! as far as that goes, I don't blame you, boys," the stockman
hastened to say in reply; for he could understand the yearning one feels
for a favorite horse; and how a seat in the saddle seems to be the
finest thing in the world.

"Thank you, dad!" exclaimed Frank. "I reckoned that you'd talk that way.
Somehow or other I just don't feel more'n half myself out of the saddle.
And when we start to go down into the canyon we can find some place to
leave our mounts where they'll be 'tended decently enough."

Ah Sin, the Chinese cook of the ranch, who generally accompanied the
boys when the whole outfit went on the grand round-up, with the mess
wagon in attendance, now came outdoors, and beat his gong to announce
dinner.

The cowboys were not far away, awaiting the summons with the customary
range appetites held in check; and when they were seated at the table
they presented a merry crowd. Frank's mother happened to be visiting
East at this time. He had a maiden aunt, however, who looked after the
household duties, and sat at the end of the long table to pour the
coffee.

Of course there was more or less talk about the sudden flitting of the
half-breed, Abajo. Nobody had any regrets, for he had never been liked.
And there were several who secretly felt pleased, because they had
happened to quarrel with the dark-skinned Mexican at different times,
and did not altogether fancy the way he had of scowling, while his
finger felt the edge of the knife he carried in his gay sash, after the
manner of his countrymen.

Colonel Haywood did not see fit to explain the real cause for the going
of Abajo, except to his foreman, Bart Heminway. But during the evening,
when Frank and Bob were making up their packs so as to get an early
start in the morning, the ranch owner might have been seen in earnest
consultation with the foreman.

Presently Bart went out, to return with Old Hank Coombs, and another
cowman known as Chesty Lane; who had of course received this name on
account of the way he thrust out his figure, rather than from any
inclination on his part to boast of his wonderful deeds.

"Chesty tells me, Colonel," said Bart, "that he used to be a guide in
this same Grand Canyon, years ago. I never knowed it 'till right to-day.
And if so be you intend to send Old Hank up thar to keep tabs on the
doings of that ugly pair, Abajo and Warringford, thar couldn't be a
better man to pick out than Chesty. You can depend on him every time."

Then followed another conference, of which the two boys, wrapped up in
their own plans in another room, were of course entirely ignorant.

It was decided, however, that the two cowmen should wait until the boys
were well on their way. Then, supplied with ample funds, they could
ride to the nearest station, meet the first train bound north, and be
at Flagstaff before night came around.

In this way the Colonel figured that he was safeguarding the interests
of Bob and Frank. Already had he begun to regret allowing them to go,
and if it had not been for the high regard he had for his word, once
given, he might have backed down. However, perhaps the sending of Hank
and his companion might answer the purpose, and prove a valuable move.

The night passed, and with early dawn there was a stir all about Circle
Ranch.

Every cowboy on the place accompanied Frank and Bob several miles on
their long journey, every fellow wishing he had been asked to join them
for the adventure. And when Bart Hemingway gave the word to turn back,
the entire group waved their hats, and cheered as long as the two lads
remained within hearing.




CHAPTER VI

BUCKSKIN ON GUARD


"A good day's ride, all right, Bob!"

"You never said truer words, Frank. And now, with night setting in, how
far do you think we've covered since the start this morning?"

The Kentucky boy sat in his saddle with a slight show of weariness,
which was not to be wondered at, considering the steadiness with which
they had kept on the move, hour after hour, heading in a general
Westerly direction.

The satin skin of Domino was flecked with foam. Even the tough little
Buckskin mount of Frank showed signs of weariness; though ready to keep
on if his master gave the word.

"That would be hard to tell," replied the rancher's son; "but it must be
all of sixty-five miles, I reckon."

"Then that beats my record some," declared the other.

"But it was a glorious gallop all the way through," asserted Frank.

"That's what; and more to follow to-morrow," his chum hastened to
remark.

"But a different kind of travel, the chances are, Bob. To-day it
happened that we were crossing the great mesa, and it was like a floor
for being level. Over yonder, ahead, you can see the mountains we must
cross. Then there are rivers to ford or swim. Yes, variety is the spice
of life; and unless I miss my guess we're due for a big change
to-morrow."

"Think we can make Flagstaff by to-morrow night?" asked the Kentucky
lad, who, at a time like this, seemed to depend very much upon the
superior knowledge of his chum, who had been brought up on the plains.

"We're going to make a try; that's as far as I've got," laughed Frank.
"But what about camping here?"

"As good as anywhere," answered Bob. "Fact is, I'm admitting to being
ready to drop down in any old place, so long as I can stretch my legs,
and roll. No wonder a horse likes to turn over as soon as you take the
saddle off. Shall we call it a go, Frank?"

The other jumped to the ground. Bob thought he heard him give a little
grunt in doing so; but just then he was interested in repressing his own
feelings.

However, when they had moved about somewhat, both boys confessed to
feeling considerably better. As for the horses, there was no danger of
their straying after that gallop of many hours in the hot sun. They took
their roll, and then began hunting for stray tufts of grass among the
buffalo berry bushes.

The sun had already set, and twilight told of the coming night. Around
them lay the mesa, with the mountains cropping up like a crust along the
edge. It was a familiar scene, to Frank in particular, and one of which
he never tired.

"I noticed some jack rabbits as we came along," remarked Bob, "and as
they always come out of their burrows about dusk to play, suppose I try
and knock over a couple right now."

"Wouldn't object myself to a good dinner of rabbit, after that ride,"
Frank admitted, as he proceeded to get the little tent in position, a
task that was only a pleasure to a boy fond of all outdoors.

So Bob immediately sauntered off toward the spot where he had noticed
the long-eared animals, calculated to make a good meal for hungry
campers.

"I heard gophers whistling," called out Frank, "and that means there's a
village somewhere close by. Keep your eyes out for the rattlers; they
are always found where prairie dogs live."

"I never forget that, Frank," came back from the disappearing hunter.

Frank went on with his preparations. A fire would be necessary, if they
expected to cook fresh meat; and it is not always an easy thing to have
such when out on the open plain or mesa. But Frank had already sighted a
supply of fuel sufficient for their needs and it was indeed next door to
a miracle to find the dead branch of a pine tree here, far away from the
mountains, where the nearest trees seemed to grow.

"I reckon it was just lifted up in some little tornado, and carried
through the air, just to land where we needed it," he remarked, as he
dragged the log closer to where he had quickly put up the tent; and then
began chopping at it with his little camp hatchet.

As he worked there came a quick report from a point not far away.

"That means one jack," he remarked, raising his head to listen; but to
his surprise no second shot followed.

"Well, if he hopes to get a pair, he'll have to hurry up his cakes,"
Frank went on; "because the night's settling down on us fast. But then
one will give us a taste all around, and help out."

It was some little time before he heard Bob coming, and then the
Kentuckian seemed to be walking rather unsteadily. Frank jumped to his
feet, with the suspicion that possibly after all Bob had met with a
misfortune. In the minute of time that he was waiting for his chum to
appear, a number of things flashed through his head to give him
uneasiness.

Had Bob been unlucky enough to run across one of those aggressive little
prairie rattlesnakes after all? Could he have wounded himself in any way
when he fired his repeating rifle? Neither of these might prove to be
the case; and yet Bob was certainly staggering as he came along.

Now he could be seen by the light of the little fire. Frank stared, for
his chum was certainly bending over, as though bearing a load. He had
heard no outcry that would signify the presence of others in the
neighborhood. Ah! surely those were the long slender legs of an antelope
which Bob gripped in front of him.

"Bully for you!" exclaimed Frank. "Where under the sun did you run
across that fine game? Say, you sure take the cake, stepping out just to
knock over a couple of long-ears; and then coming back ten minutes later
with a fine antelope on your back. How did you do it, Bob?"

"I don't know," laughed the other. "Happened to start up against the
wind, and was creeping up behind some buffalo berry bushes to see if
there were any jack rabbits beyond, when this little fellow jumped to
his feet. Why he didn't light out when we came along, I never could tell
you."

"Oh! he just knew we wanted a good supper, I reckon," Frank remarked.
"And now to get busy."

It did not take them long to cut some choice bits from the antelope,
which they began to cook at the fire, thrusting the meat through with
long splinters of wood, which in turn were held in a slanting position
in the ground. When one part gave evidence of being browned the novel
spit was turned until all sides had been equally served.

"Remember the way Old Hank showed us how to toll antelope for a shot,
when you can't find cover to get near enough?" asked Frank, as they sat
there, disposing of their supper, with the satisfaction hunger always
brings in its train.

"You mean with the red handkerchief waved over the top of a bush?" Bob
went on. "Hank said there never was a more curious little beast than an
antelope. If he didn't have a red rag a white one would do. Once he said
he just lay down on his back and kicked his heels in the air. The game
ran away, but came back; and each time just a little bit closer, till
Hank could fire, and get his supper. I've done something the same for
ducks, in a marsh back home, trying to draw their attention to the
decoys I had out."

A small stream ran near by, at which the boys and horses had quenched
their thirst. Sometimes its gentle murmur floated to their ears as they
sat there, chatting, and wondering whether their mission to the Grand
Canyon was destined to bear fruit or not.

"I can get the smell of some late wild roses," remarked Frank. "And it
isn't often that you find such things up on one of these high mesas, or
table lands. Do you know, I rather imagine this used to be a favorite
stamping ground for buffalo in those good old days when herds of tens of
thousands could be met with, rolling like the waves of a sea over the
plains."

"What makes you think so?" asked Bob, always seeking information.

"The grass, for one thing," came the reply. "Then I noticed quite a few
old sun-burned remnants of skulls as we came along. The bone hunter
didn't gather his crop in this region, that means. Besides, didn't you
see all those queer little indentations that looked as though they might
have been pools away back years ago?"

"Sure, I did; and wondered whatever could have made them," Bob admitted.

"I may be wrong," Frank continued; "but somehow I've got an idea that
those must be what they used to call buffalo wallows. Anyhow, that
doesn't matter to us. We've made a good day of it; found a jim-dandy
place for a camp; got some juicy fresh meat; and to-morrow we hope to
land in Flagstaff."

"And what then?" queried Bob.

"We'll decide that while we ride along to-morrow," Frank answered.
"Perhaps it may seem better that we leave our horses there, and take the
train for the Grand Canyon; though I'm inclined to make another day of
it, and follow the old wagon trail over the mesa, and through the pine
forest past Red Butte, to Grand View."

"Listen to Buckskin snorting; what d'ye suppose ails him?" asked Bob, as
his chum stopped speaking.

"I was just going to say that myself," remarked Frank, putting out his
hand for his rifle; and at the same time scattering the brands of the
dying fire so that darkness quickly fell upon the spot.

"Too late, I'm afraid," muttered Bob.

"Seems like it, because the horses are sure coming straight for us,"
said Frank; "but there are many people moving around in this section,
and perhaps some tenderfeet from the East have lost themselves, and
would be glad of a chance to sit by our blaze and taste antelope meat,
fresh where it is grown. Step back, Bob, and let's wait to see what
turns up!"




CHAPTER VII

STANDING BY THE LAW


"What had we ought to do?" asked Bob.

"They must have seen our fire, and that's what made them head this way.
So, all we can do is to wait, and see what they want," replied Frank.

"But there don't seem to be many in the party," his chum went on.

"I think not more than two, Bob."

"You can tell from the beat of their horses' hoofs--is that it?"
inquired the boy who wanted to learn.

"Yes, it's easy enough, Bob."

By this time the sounds had grown quite loud, and both boys strained
their eyes, trying to locate the approaching horsemen. In the old days
on the plains every stranger was deemed an enemy until he had proven
himself a friend. Nowadays it is hardly so positive as that; but
nevertheless those who are wise take no chances.

"I see them!" Bob announced; but although the other saddle boy had not
said so, he had picked up the advancing figures several seconds before.

"One thing sure," remarked Frank, as though relieved, "I reckon they
can't be horse thieves or cattle rustlers."

"You mean they wouldn't be so bold about coming forward?" ventured Bob.

"That's about the size of it; but we'll soon know," Frank went on.

As the strangers drew rapidly nearer he began to make out their "style"
for the night was not intensely dark. And somehow Frank's curiosity
increased in bounds. He discovered no signs of the customary cowboy
outfit about them. They wore garments that savored of civilization, and
sat their horses with the air of men accustomed to much riding.

"Hold hard there, strangers; or you'll be riding us down!" Frank sang
out, as the newcomers loomed up close at hand.

At that the others drew rein, and brought their horses to a halt.
Bending low in the saddle they seemed to be peering at the dimly-seen
figures of the two boys.

"Who is it--speak quick!" one of the strangers said; and Frank believed
he heard a suspicious click accompanying the thrilling words.

"Two boys bound for Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon," he answered, not
wishing to take any unnecessary chances.

"Where from, and what's your names?" continued the other, in his
commanding voice, that somehow told Frank he must be one accustomed to
demanding obedience.

The ranch boy no longer felt any uneasiness. He believed that these men
were not to be feared.

"I am the son of Colonel Haywood, owner of the Circle Ranch; and this is
my chum, Bob Archer, a Kentucky boy," he said, boldly.

Then the other man, who as yet had not spoken, took occasion to remark:

"'Taint them, after all, Stanwix! Perhaps we've been following the wrong
trail."

The name gave Frank an idea. He had heard more or less about the doings
of a sheriff in a neighboring county, called Yavapai, and his name was
the same as that mentioned by the second dimly seen rider.

"Are you gentlemen from Prescott?" he asked.

"That's where I hold out when I'm home," replied the one who had asked
about their identity.

"Are you Sheriff Stanwix?" pursued the boy, while his companion almost
held his breath in suspense.

"I am; and this is Hand, who holds the same office in this county of
Coconino," replied the other, as he threw a leg over his saddle as
though about to dismount.

Both of them joined the boys, leaving their horses to stand with the
bridles thrown over their heads, cowboy fashion.

Frank meanwhile had picked up some small fuel, and thrown it on the
still smouldering fire. It immediately started up into a blaze that
continued to increase.

They could now see that their visitors were two keen-eyed men. The
evidence of their calling lay in the stars that decorated their left
breasts. Both looked as though they could hold their own against odds.
And of course they were armed as became their dangerous profession.

Bob was especially interested. He had never really had anything to do
with an officer of the law; and surveyed the pair with all the ardor of
boyish curiosity.

To see one sheriff was a treat; but to have two drop down upon them
after this fashion must be an event worth remembering.

"We had the good luck to knock over a young antelope just before dark,"
Frank remarked, after each of the men had insisted in gravely shaking
hands with both himself and Bob. "Perhaps you haven't had any supper,
and wouldn't mind taking pot luck with us?"

"How about that, Hand?" questioned the taller man, turning with a laugh
to the second sheriff.

"Just suits me," came the reply, as the speaker threw himself down on
the hard ground. "Half an hour's rest will do the hosses some good,
too."

"Thank you, boys, we accept, and with pleasure," Mr. Stanwix went on,
turning again toward Frank.

Bob immediately got busy, and started to cut further bits from the
carcase of his small antelope. There would be plenty for even the
healthy appetites of the two officers, and then leave enough for the
boys' breakfast.

"We're in something of a hurry to get on to Flagstaff ourselves, boys,"
the Yavapai sheriff remarked, as he sniffed the cooking venison with
relish; "but the temptation to hold over a bit is too strong. You see,
Hand and myself have just made up our minds to bag our birds this trip,
no matter where it takes us, or how long we're on the job."

"Then you're after some cattle rustlers or bad men, I reckon," Frank
remarked.

"A couple of the worst scoundrels ever known around these diggings,"
replied the officer. "They've been jumping from one county into another,
when pushed; and in the end Hand, here, and myself concluded we'd just
join our forces. We've got a posse to the south, and another working to
the north; but we happened to strike the trail of our birds just before
dusk, and we've been following it in hopes of reaching Flagstaff before
they can get down into the gash, and hide."

"A trail, you say?" Frank observed. "Could it have been the one I've
been following just out of curiosity, and because it seemed to run in
the very direction my chum and myself were bound?"

"That's just what it was, Frank," the sheriff answered, as he accepted
the hot piece of browned venison, stick and all, which Bob was holding
out. "We saw that there had come into the trail the marks of two new
hosses; and naturally enough we got the idea that it might mean our men
were being followed by a couple of their own kind."

"Then when you saw our little fire, you thought we were the kind of
steers you wanted to round up?" the boy asked.

"Oh! well," Mr. Stanwix replied with a little chuckle; "we kept a touch
on our irons when I was asking you who you were; and if the reply hadn't
been all that it was, I reckon we'd have politely asked you to throw up
your hands, boys. But say, this meat is prime, and seems to go to the
spot."

"I don't know which spot you mean, Stanwix," remarked the other officer,
who was also munching away like a half-starved man; "but mine suits me
all right. I'm right glad we stopped. The rest will tone the nags up for
a long pull; and as for me, I'll be in great shape after this feed."

Bob was kept busy cooking more and more, for the two men seemed to
realize, after once getting a taste, that they were desperately hungry.
But he did it with pleasure. There was something genial about the manner
of Mr. Stanwix that quite captured the heart of the Kentucky lad. He
knew the tall man could be as gentle as a woman, if the occasion ever
arose when he had a wounded comrade to nurse; and if his reputation did
not speak wrongly his courage was decidedly great.

While they sat there the two men talked of various subjects. Frank was
curious to know something about those whom they were now banded together
in a determined effort to capture, and so Mr. Stanwix told a few
outlines of the case.

The men were known as the Arizona Kid and Big Bill Guffey. They had been
cattlemen, miners, and about every other thing known to the Southwest.
By degrees they had acquired the reputation of being bad men; and all
sorts of lawless doings were laid at their door. And finally it came to
defying the sheriff, evading capture by flitting to another county, and
playing a game of hide-and-seek, until their bold methods were the talk
of the whole country.

Then it was the Coconino sheriff had conceived the idea of an alliance
with his brother officer in the adjoining county, of which the thriving
city of Prescott was the seat of government.

Frank even had Mr. Stanwix describe the two men whom the officers were
pursuing.

"We expect to be around the Grand Canyon for some weeks," the lad
remarked; "and it might be we'd run across these chaps. To know who they
were, would be putting us on our guard, and besides, perhaps we might be
able to get notice to you, sir."

"That sounds all right, Frank," the other had hastened to reply; "and
believe me, I appreciate your friendly feelings. It's the duty of all
good citizens to back up the man they've put in office, when he's trying
to free the community of a bad crowd."

Then he explained just how they might get word to him in case they had
anything of importance to communicate. Although the Tarapai sheriff knew
nothing about wireless telegraphy, he did understand some of the methods
which savage tribes in many countries use in order to send news hundreds
of miles; sometimes by a chain of drums stationed on the hill tops miles
apart; or it may be by the waving of a red flag.

"And I want to tell you, Frank," Mr. Stanwix concluded, "if so be you
ever do have occasion to send me that message, just make up your minds
that I'll come to you on the jump, with Hand at my heels. But for your
own sakes I hope you won't run across these two hard cases. We've got
an idea that they mean to do some hold-up game in the Grand Canyon,
where hundreds of rich travelers gather. And if luck favors us we expect
to put a spoke in their wheel before they run far!"




CHAPTER VIII

THE MOQUI WHO WAS CAUGHT NAPPING


Sheriff Stanwix arose with a sigh.

"Reckon we'd better be moving on, Hand," he said, evidently with
reluctance; for it was very pleasant sitting there, taking his ease
beside the camp fire of the two boys; but when duty called this man
never let anything stand in the way.

Their horses had not strayed far away. Like most animals they had sought
the company of their kind, as various sounds indicated, Buckskin
doubtless showing his prairie strain by sundry nips with his teeth at
the strangers.

Another shake of hands all around; then the sheriffs threw themselves
into their saddles, and were off. The last the two lads saw of them was
when their figures were swallowed up in the night-mists; and then it was
a friendly wave of the arm that told how much they had appreciated the
hospitality of the saddle boys.

"Well, anyhow, it doesn't seem quite so lonely out here, after all,"
said Frank, laughing, as he and his chum settled down again.

"Why, no," added Bob, "I thought we owned the whole coop; but I take it
back. There are others abroad, it seems."

"I only hope those two fly-by-night birds don't take a notion to double
on their trail, and come back to pay us a visit," Frank remarked; and of
course Bob understood that he meant the bad men who were being rounded
up by Sheriff Stanwix, aided by the official of Coconino County.

"Perhaps we'd better douse the glim, then?" Bob suggested.

"Let it burn out," Frank remarked; "I don't believe there's much chance
of anybody else seeing it now; because it's pretty low. Our tent shows
up about as plain, come to think of it; but I don't mean to do without
shelter."

They sat there, chatting on various subjects, for some time. Of course
their mission to the region of the greatest natural wonder in the world
took a leading part in this conversation. But then they also spoke of
their recent visitors; and as Bob showed signs of considerable interest,
Frank told all he had ever heard about the valor of the Prescott
sheriff.

"I don't know how you feel about it, Bob," he said, at length, with a
yawn, "but I'm getting mighty sleepy."

"Same here; and I move we turn in," Bob immediately replied.

Accordingly, as the idea had received unanimous approval, they took a
look at the horses, now staked out with the ropes, and, finding them
comfortable, both boys crawled under the canvas.

Some hours later they were aroused suddenly by a shrill yell. As they
sat up, and groped for their rifles, not realizing what manner of peril
could be hanging over them, the loud snorting of the horses came to
their ears.

"Come on!" exclaimed Frank, in considerable excitement. "Sounds like
somebody might be bothering our mounts!"

Bob had not been so very long in the Western country; but he knew what
that meant all right. Horses were supposed to be the most valuable
possessions among men who spent their lives on the great plains and
deserts of this region. In the old days it was deemed a capital crime to
steal horses.

So Bob, shivering with excitement, but not fear, hastened to follow at
the heels of his chum, as Frank hastily crawled out of the tent.

A rather battered looking moon was part way up in the Eastern heavens.
Though the light she gave was none of the best, still, to the boys,
coming from the interior of the tent, it seemed quite enough to enable
them to see their way about, and even distinguish objects at a little
distance.

Frank lost no time heading in the direction where he knew the horses had
been staked out.

"Anyhow, they don't seem to have got them yet," remarked Bob, gleefully,
as the sound of prancing and snorting came to their ears louder than
ever.

Frank stopped for a couple of seconds to listen.

"Buckskin is carrying on something fierce," he muttered. "He seems to be
furiously mad, too. Perhaps, after all, it may be a bear sniffing
around; though I'd never expect to find such a thing out here, so far
away from the mountains."

He again started on, with Bob close at his elbow. The words of his chum
had given the Kentucky lad new cause for other thrills. What if it
should prove to be a grizzly bear? He had had one experience with such a
monster, and was not particularly anxious for another, not being in the
big game class.

Now they were approaching the spot where the two roped horses were
jumping restlessly about, making queer sounds that could only indicate
alarm.

Frank spoke to his animal immediately, thinking to reassure him.

"Easy now, Buckskin; what's making you act this way? I don't see any
enemy. If you've given a false alarm, it'll sure be for the first time!"

"Frank!" ventured the other lad, just then.

"What is it, Bob?"

"I thought I heard a low groan!" continued the Kentucky boy, in awed
tones.

"You did?" ejaculated Frank, quickly. "Have you any idea where it came
from?"

As if to make it quite unnecessary for Bob to reply, there came just
then a low but distinct grunt or groan. Frank could not tell which.

"Over this way, Frank; he's in this direction!" exclaimed the impulsive
Bob, as he started to move off.

"Wait a minute," said the practical and cautious Frank. "You never know
what sort of game you're up against, around here. Some of these horse
thieves can toll a fellow away from his camp to beat the band, while a
mate gets off with the saddle band. I've been warned against that very
sort of play. Go slow, Bob, and keep a finger on your trigger, I tell
you."

They advanced slowly, looking all around in the dim moonlight. Twice
more the strange sounds arose. Frank jumped to the conclusion that it
was, after all, no attempt to draw them farther and farther away from
the tent; because the groans seemed to come from the one spot, instead
of gradually moving off in a tempting manner.

"Here he is, Bob!" he said, presently; and the other, looking, saw a
huddled-up figure lying upon the ground in the midst of the low buffalo
berry bushes.

Immediately they were bending over the form, which had moved at their
approach.

"Why, it's an Indian, Frank!" cried Bob, in surprise.

"Yes, and unless I miss my guess, a Moqui Indian at that," Frank
replied. "Three of them wandered down our way once, and gave us some
interesting exhibitions of their customs. You know their home is up to
the north. They are said to be the descendants of the old cliff dwellers
who made all those holes high up in the rocks, to keep out of the reach
of enemies."

He was bending down over the other even while saying this; and feeling
to see if the Indian could have been wounded in any way.

"What seems to be the matter with him, Frank?" asked Bob, when this
thing had been going on for a full minute, the stricken man grunting,
and Frank appearing to continue his investigations.

"I tell you what," Frank remarked, presently; "I honestly believe he's
been kicked by the heels of my sassy little Buckskin; perhaps he's badly
hurt; and then again, he may only have had the wind knocked out of him.
That horse is as bad as any mule you ever saw, when it comes to planting
his heels."

"But what was he prowling around the camp for?" asked Bob, who had a
hazy idea concerning the red men of the West, gained perhaps from early
reading of the attacks on the wagon trains of the pioneers of the
prairie.

"Oh! these Moqui Indians wouldn't do a white man any harm, unless they
happened to take too much juice of the agave plant, in the shape of
mescal," Frank hastened to say; "and I don't seem to get the smell of
that stuff. So the chances are that he had something of an eye to our
horses."

"And as he didn't know about Buckskin's ways he gave the little pony a
chance to get in some dents. But he may be badly hurt, Frank," Bob went
on, his natural kindness of heart cropping up above any feeling of
animosity he might have experienced.

"I suppose, then, we'll just have to tote the beggar to the tent, and
start up that fire again, while we look him over. If those hind feet
came slap against his ribs, the chances are we'll find a few of them
broken."

Swinging their rifles into one hand they managed to take hold of the
grunting Moqui, and in this primitive fashion began hauling him along.
Buckskin continued to prance and snort as though demanding whether he
had not amply fulfilled his duty as guardian to the camp; but no one
paid the least attention to him just then. Arriving at the tent the
boys proceeded to rekindle the fire.

"Why, he's coming to, Frank!" exclaimed Bob, as, having finished his
task, he turned to see his chum bending over the victim of Buckskin's
hoofs, and noted that the would-be horse thief was struggling to sit up.

"I don't believe he's hurt very bad," Frank declared. "I've felt all
over his body, and don't seem to find any signs of broken bones."

"Listen to him gasp right now, as if the breath had been knocked out of
him," remarked Bob. "He's going to speak, Frank, sure he is. I wonder
can we understand what he says. Moqui wasn't included in my education at
the Military Institution at Frankfort."

The Indian was indeed trying to get enough air in his lungs to enable
him to say something.




CHAPTER IX

"TALK ABOUT LUCK!"


"No hurt Havasupai!" was what he managed to say, hoarsely.

"We're not going to hurt you, old man," remarked Frank; for he had seen
that the Indian was no stripling. "What we want to know is, how you came
to get so close to the heels of my horse as to be kicked? Tell us that,
Havasupai, if you please."

There was no answer, although twice the exhausted red man opened his
lips as if to speak.

"That knocks the props out from under him, Frank," remarked Bob;
"because he was bent on getting away with one or both mounts."

"How about that, Havasupai; weren't you thinking of stealing a horse,
when that animal just keeled you over so neatly?" Frank demanded.

The Indian was sitting up now. His head was hanging low on his chest.
Perhaps it was shame that caused this: or it might have been a desire to
keep his face hidden from the searching eyes of the white boys.

Then, as though realizing the utter folly of denying what must appear so
evident, he nodded his head slowly.

"It is true, white boy," he muttered, in fair English. "Havasupai meant
to take a horse. He had looked upon the man who beckons, and he was
afraid, because he had trouble at his village. He believed every man's
hand was against him. And so he would flee to the desert where the white
man's big medicine would not find him. There he might die with the
poison snakes and the whooping birds."

Bob was of course puzzled by some of the things the Indian said.

"What does he mean, Frank?" he asked.

"I take it the warrior has been in some sort of fuss at his village,"
the other replied. "Perhaps he even struck his chief in anger, and that
made an offense punishable with death. These Moqui Indians are a queer
lot, anyhow, I've heard. Then he must have skipped out, and by accident
seeing our friend, Sheriff Stanwix, known to him as the 'man who
beckons,' he just imagined they were looking for him."

"And that locoed him so much that he just couldn't stand it any longer,"
Bob said. "Discovering our camp he got the notion in his head that a
horse might take him out of the danger zone. So he was in the act of
jumping on one of our mounts when your clever little beast took a hand,
or rather a hoof, in the matter. But do you know what he means by
whooping birds?"

"Well, I can give a guess," replied Frank. "That must mean the little
owl that lives with the prairie dogs in their holes, along with the
poison snake, otherwise the rattler."

"Looks like we've just got our hands full to-night, Frank!"

"You're right, Bob. First we feed two hungry sheriffs, and pick up quite
a little news about the bad men they're looking for. Next, along comes
this Moqui, Havasupai he says his name is, and he gets in a bad fix by
trying to run off our horses; and feeling sorry for the old chap we lug
him to our tent, and look him over, ready to even bind up his wounds, if
he has any."

"Getting to be a habit, isn't it, Frank?"

"Seems like it," returned the taller boy, as he once more turned toward
the seated Indian. "Here, can you tell us where my horse kicked you?"

"It matters not much. Havasupai get what he needs because he try to
steal horse from good white boys," came the humble reply.

"One thing sure," remarked Frank aside to his chum, "he's been in touch
with the whites a heap, or he wouldn't know how to talk as he does. But
then, that isn't so queer. You know that these Moquis pick up a lot of
good coin from the travelers who come and go at the Grand Canyon."

"Why, yes," Bob went on to say, "I've always heard that one of the
sights of this wonderland was the snake dance of the Moquis. I read an
account of it in a magazine once. It said that hundreds of people
gathered from many quarters to be on hand and see it, because it occurs
only once a year. Some of them were big guns in science, too."

"They're getting more and more interested in these Indians of the
Southwest," Frank continued; "and trying all the time to find out just
where they fit in the long-ago past. That's what made old Uncle Felix,
who had already made a name for himself, give up his happy home, and
hide all these months down here. He wants to learn the long-buried
secrets of the past history of the Zunis, the Moquis, and other tribes
that might have sprung from the old cliff builders."

"But what can we do with this fellow, Frank?"

"Oh! well, nothing much, I reckon," the other answered, carelessly. "He
must have been plum locoed at seeing the sheriff, and hardly knew what
he was doing when he set out to grab Buckskin. We'll just have to let
him sleep here till morning, and then give him a bite of breakfast."

"Just as you say, Frank; you ought to know what's best," Bob hastened to
declare. "Now I wonder what'll be the next thing on the programme? I
hope we don't have the two men the sheriff is hunting, drop in to make
us a call."

"Little danger of that now," Frank remarked reassuringly. "By this time
they're well on their way to Flagstaff. Here, Havasupai, as you call
yourself; we don't mean to do you any harm, even if you did play us a
mean trick when you tried to steal a mount. Understand?"

The old Indian looked up at Frank through his masses of coarse black
hair, just beginning to be streaked with gray.

"Not do any harm," he repeated, as though hardly able to grasp the
meaning of the words Frank spoke; then his brown face lighted up with a
grim smile. "White boys good; Havasupai glad him not take horse. Bad
Indian! But not always that way; him carry speaking paper tell how make
good," and he thumped his breast as he said this.

Again did Bob's eyes seek the face of his chum in a questioning manner.
Frank, having been raised amid such scenes, could more readily
understand what the Moqui meant when he referred to certain things which
Bob had never heard mentioned before.

"He means that he's got a letter of recommendation along with him,
written by some tourist, I reckon. Perhaps this old fellow may have
found a chance to do some one a good turn. He may have run across a
greenhorn wandering on the desert; saved a fellow who had been stabbed
by the fangs of a viper from the Gila; or helped him to camp when he
broke a leg in climbing around the Grand Canyon."

"Oh! I see what you mean, Frank; that this party wrote out a
recommendation to all concerned, stating that in his opinion Havasupai
was a fine fellow, and worth trusting. But then that was before he got
into this trouble at this village. If he's a fugitive from justice at
the hands of his own tribe, such a paper isn't worth much, I guess."

"No more it isn't," agreed Frank.

"But all the same he means to stick us with it," chuckled Bob; "for you
can see he's got his hand in his shirt right now, as if searching for
something so valuable that he won't even carry it in his ditty bag."

"That's right, Bob."

"And now he's got in touch with that old letter," grunted Bob. "I
suppose we'll just have to read it to please him."

"You can if you care to," remarked Frank. "As for me, I'm that sleepy I
only want a chance to crawl back into the tent, and take up my
interrupted nap where it broke off."

"But good gracious! do you really mean it?" exclaimed the puzzled Bob.

"Why not?" demanded his chum.

"And leave him loose here, with the horses close by?" Bob went on,
aghast.

At that Frank laughed a little.

"Well," he said, drily; "so far as the horses are concerned, I reckon
our old friend Havasupai will go a long way on foot before he ever tries
to steal a promising looking pony again. As long as he lives he'll
remember how it feels to get a pair of hoofs fairly planted against his
back. So long, Bob. Tell the old fraud he can lie down anywhere he
pleases, and share our breakfast in the morning."

"That's the way you rub it in, Frank; returning evil with good," the
Kentucky boy remarked. "But since you want me to take him in hand, I'll
be the victim, and read his letter of recommendation, though I can
already guess what it will say."

The old Moqui had meanwhile succeeded in getting out the paper which he
seemed to set so much store by. Looking up, and seeing that Frank had
turned away, he offered it to Bob, who took it gravely, and proceeded to
hold it so that the light of the little fire would fall upon the
writing.

Frank was half way in the tent when he heard his chum give utterance to
a shout. He backed out again, and turning, looked hastily, half
expecting to see Bob engaged in a tussle with the old Indian.

Nothing of the sort met his gaze. The Moqui was sitting there, staring
at Bob, who had straightened up, and was starting to dance around,
holding the paper in his extended hand.

"What ails you, Bob?" demanded the other. "Haven't been taken with a
sudden pain, after all that venison you stowed away, I hope."

"Come out here, Frank!" called the lad by the fire. "Of all the luck! to
think we'd strike such a piece as this! It's rich! It's the finest ever!
We go to hunt for clues, and here they come straight to us. Talk to me
about the favors of fortune, why, we're in it up to the neck!"

"You seem to be tickled about something, Bob; has that paper any
connection with it?" demanded Frank.

"Well I should say, yes, by a big jugfull," replied the Kentucky boy.
"And you'll agree with me when I tell you it's signed by Professor Felix
Oswald, the very man we're going to search the Grand Canyon up and down
to find!"




CHAPTER X

THE COPPER COLORED MESSENGER


"Do you really mean it, Bob?" asked Frank, with the bewildered air of
one who suspects a joke.

"Take it yourself, and see," replied the other, holding out the
discolored and wrinkled sheet on which the writing was still plainly to
be read.

Frank bent over, the better to allow the firelight to fall upon the
queer document. This was what he read in a rather crabbed hand, though
the writing could be read fairly well:

_"To Whom it May Concern; Greeting!_

"This is to certify to the good character of the bearer, a Moqui Indian
by the name of Havasupai, who has rendered me a very great service,
which proves him to be the friend of the white man, and a believer in
the pursuit of science. I cheerfully recommend him to all who may be in
need of a trustworthy and capable guide to the Grand Canyon.

"PROFESSOR OSWALD."

Frank looked up to see the grinning face of his chum thrust close to
him.

"Think it's genuine, Frank?" demanded the other.

"I can see no reason why it shouldn't be," answered the other, glancing
down again at the crumpled paper he held, and which the old Moqui was
regarding with the greatest of pride on his brown face.

"Looks like that paper Mr. Hinchman brought to my dad; yes, I'd stake my
word on it, Bob, that the same hand wrote both."

"But how d'ye suppose this greasy old Indian ever got the document?"
asked the young Kentuckian.

"We'll have to put it up to him, and find out," came the reply. "He can
speak United States all right; we've found that out already; and so you
see, there's no reason under the sun why he shouldn't want to tell us."

He turned to the Moqui. It was not the same sleepy boy apparently who,
but a minute before, had started to creep into the comfortable tent,
where the blankets lay; but a wide-awake fellow, eager to ascertain
under what conditions this fugitive brave could have secured such a
letter of recommendation from the man of science, who was supposed to
have utterly vanished from the haunts of men without leaving a single
trace behind, up to the hour that message came to Colonel Haywood.

Holding the paper up, and shaking it slightly, Frank started to put the
Moqui warrior on the rack.

"This belong to you, Havasupai?" he demanded, trying to assume a stern
manner, such as he believed would affect the other more or less, and be
apt to bring out straight answers to his leading questions.

"The white boy has said," answered the other, for an Indian seldom
answers in a direct way.

"Where did you get it?" Frank continued, slowly, as if feeling his way;
for he did not wish to alarm the Indian, knowing how obstinate a Moqui
may prove if he once suspects that he is being coaxed into betraying
some secret or a friend.

The black, bead-like eyes were on the face of Frank as he put these
questions. Doubtless the old Moqui balanced every one well before
venturing a reply.

"He gave it," nodding in the direction of the paper Frank held.

"Do you mean the man who signed his name here, Professor Oswald?"

A nod of the head in the affirmative settled that question.

"Was he a small man with a bald head, no hair on top, and wearing
glasses over his eyes, big, staring glasses?"

Frank aided comprehension by touching the top of his own head when
speaking about the loss of hair on the part of the noted scientist; and
then made rings with his fingers and thumbs which he clapped to his eyes
as though looking through a pair of spectacles.

Evidently the Moqui understood. Reading signs was a part of his early
education. In fact it comprised nearly four-fifths of all the Indian
knew.

"White boy heap wise; he know that the man give Havasupai talking paper.
Much great man; know all. Tell Havasupai about cliff men. Find much good
cook pot, heap more stuff in cave. Find out how cave men live. Write all
down in book. Send Havasupai one, promise. It is well!"

"But where did you meet him?" asked Frank; and he saw at once that this
was getting very near the danger line, judging from the manner in which
the Moqui acted; for he seemed to draw back, just as the alarmed
tortoise will hide its head in its shell at the first sign of peril.

"In canyon where picture rocks laugh at sun," the Indian slowly said.

"That ought to stand for the Grand Canyon," remarked the boy.

The keen ears of the Moqui caught the words, although they were almost
spoken in whispers, and only intended for Bob.

He nodded violently, and Frank somehow found himself wondering whether,
after all, the shrewd Indian might not be wanting to deceive him. He may
have conceived the idea that these two white boys were the enemies of
the queer old professor; and for that reason would be careful how he
betrayed the man who trusted him.

"Listen, Moqui," said Frank, putting on a serious manner, so as to
impress the other; "we are the friends of the little-old-man who has no
hair on top of his head. We want to see him, talk with him! It means
much good to him. He will be glad if you help us find him. Do you
understand that?"

The Indian's black eyes roved from one to the other of those bright
young faces. Apparently he would be foolish to suspect even for a minute
that the two lads could have any evil design in their minds.

Still, the crafty look on his brown face grew more intense.

"He has some good reason for refusing to accommodate us, I'm afraid,"
Bob said just then, as if he too had read the signs of that set
countenance.

"Why don't you answer me, Moqui?" Frank insisted, bent on knowing the
worst. "We are on the way now to find the man who gave you this letter
that talks. We have some good news for him. And you can help us if you
will only tell in what part of the Grand Canyon Echo Cave lies."

The Indian seemed to ponder. Evidently his mind worked slowly, when it
tried to grapple with secrets. But one thing he knew, and this must be
some solemn promise he had made the man of science, never under any
conditions to betray his hiding-place to a living soul.

"No can say; in canyon where picture rocks lie; that all," he finally
declared, and Frank knew Indians well enough to feel sure that no
torture could be painful enough to induce Havasupai to betray one he
believed his friend, and whose magic talking paper he carried inside his
shirt, to prove his good character.

"That settles it, Bob, I'm afraid," he remarked to his chum, who had
been listening eagerly to all that was being said. "You might try all
sorts of terrible things and he wouldn't whisper a word, even if he
believed all we told him."

"That's tough," observed Bob; "but anyhow, we've got something out of it
all, because we know now that the silly old professor must be hiding in
one of those cliff caves, trying to read up the whole life history of
the queer people who dug their homes out of the solid rock, tier after
tier, away up the face of the cliffs."

"True for you, Bob, and I'm glad to see how you take it. I had hoped the
Moqui might make our job easier, as he could do, all right, if only he
wanted to tell us a few things. But we're no worse off than we were
before, in all things, and some better in a few."

"I wish I could talk Moqui," declared Bob; "and perhaps then I'd be able
to make the old fellow understand. Perhaps, Frank, if you gave him a
little note to Uncle Felix, he might promise to take it to him later
on!"

"Hello! that's a good idea, I declare," exclaimed Frank; "and I'll just
do that same while I think of it."

He immediately drew out a pad of paper, and a fountain pen which he
often carried for business purposes, since there were times when he had
to sign documents as a witness for his father.

The old Moqui watched him closely. Evidently the spider-like handwriting
was a deep mystery to him, and he must always feel a certain amount of
respect for any white person who could communicate with another by means
of the "talking paper."

"There," said Frank, presently, "that ought to do the business, I
reckon."

"What did you say?" asked his comrade, who was busy at the fire just
then, drawing some of the partly-burned wood aside, so that their supply
might hold out in the morning.

"Oh!" Frank went on, "I told him dad had his note, sent in that bottle.
Then I mentioned the important fact that the mine paper he carried had
increased in value thousands of dollars. And I wound up by telling him
how much we wanted to see and talk with him. I signed my name, and
yours, to the note."

"And now to see whether the Moqui will promise to carry it to your
great-uncle."

Frank held the note up.

"You will not tell us where we can find the little man without any hair
on his head, Havasupai," he said. "But surely you will not say no when I
ask you to carry this talking paper to him. It will please him very
much. He will shake your hand, and many times thank you. How?"

The cautious old Moqui seemed to be weighing chances in his suspicious
mind.

"Three to one he thinks we mean to spy on him, and find it all out that
way," was Bob's quick opinion.

"Just what was in my mind; I could read it in his sly old face. But all
the same he's going to consent, Bob."

The Kentucky boy wondered how Frank could tell this. He was even more
surprised when the Indian stretched out a hand for the note, as he said
solemnly:

"Havasupai will carry the talking paper to the man who has no hair on
his head. But no eye must see him do it. The white boys must say to
Havasupai that they will not try to follow him."

Frank looked at his chum, and nodded.

"We'll just have to do it, I guess, to satisfy the suspicious old fraud,
Bob," he remarked; and then raising his hand, while his chum did
likewise Frank went on, addressing the Moqui, who watched every action
with glittering black eyes: "We promise not to follow, Havasupai, and
will hope that this talking paper may cause the man-who-hides to send
you for us to take us to him. You understand all that I am saying, don't
you?"

The Moqui said something in his native language, which of course neither
of them comprehended. But at the same time he reached out his hand and
deliberately took the note intended for Uncle Felix.

"Hurrah! he's going to act as our messenger!" exclaimed Bob, filled with
anticipations of success. "Say, that was a pretty smart dodge on our
part, after all. But it makes me hold my breath every time I think of
our good luck in running across this chap the way we did. And Buckskin
deserves all the credit. He did it with his wonderful little tap."

"All right," said Frank; "me for the land of sleep now! Havasupai, you
can lie down where you will. In the morning we promise you a share of
our meat. How?"

"It is well, white boy," replied the old Moqui, as he dropped in a heap,
and evidently meant to sleep just as he was without any further
preparations.

Bob also crawled into the tent, although he had some misgivings, and
wondered whether his chum were really doing a wise thing to trust one
who had just confessed to a desire to raid their horses.

But as Bob, too, was tired and sleepy, he soon forgot all his suspicions
in slumber. When he awoke he could see the daylight peeping under the
canvas. Without disturbing his companion, Bob immediately started to
crawl out. He had suddenly remembered the old Moqui; and it seemed as
though his fears must have returned two-fold, and nothing would do but
that he must hasten to make sure all was well.

Frank was just opening his eyes a little while later when he saw Bob's
head thrust in at the opening of the tent.

"Better get up, Frank," the other said. "I've started the fire, and
after we've had breakfast we'll be on our way. It was just as you said,
though; he had the good sense to keep clear of the heels of the horses."

"Who are you talking about, the Moqui?" asked Frank, sitting up
suddenly, as he caught a peculiar strain in the other's voice.

"Yes, our friend, Havasupai; who vamoosed in the night!" laughed Bob.




CHAPTER XI

AT THE GRAND CANYON


"Do you mean it?" asked Frank.

"Come out, and see for yourself," Bob returned. "I've looked all around,
and not a sign of the old fellow can I find."

"And both horses are there?" Frank continued, making a break for the
exit.

"As fine as you please. Our friend didn't want a second try from those
clever heels of Buckskin. He gave them a wide berth when he cleared out,
I warrant. Oh! you can look everywhere, and you won't see a whiff of
Havasupai. He's skipped by the light of the moon, all right."

Bob backed off, as his chum walked this way and that. He grinned as
though he really enjoyed the whole thing. In his mind he had figured
that it would turn out something this way, so he was not very much
surprised.

"What d'ye think, Frank," he exclaimed, presently; "don't you remember
promising to share our venison at breakfast with the Moqui?"

"Why yes, to be sure I do; but what of that, Bob?"

"Only that he didn't forget," laughed the other.

Frank immediately glanced toward the carcase of the little antelope.

"Ginger! he did go and cut himself a piece from it, sure enough," he
admitted.

"While he thought our company not as nice as our room, still, he didn't
object to sharing our meat. And, Frank, he wasn't at all stingy about
the amount he took, either," Bob complained.

"Oh! well, I reckon there's still enough for us, and to spare. Besides,
we've got heaps of other things along in our packs, for an emergency,
you know. Suppose we make a pot of coffee, and start things."

"That's all right, Frank; I'll attend to it," declared Bob; "but why
under the sun do you suppose now, that sly old Moqui dodged out like
that?"

"Well, for one thing, he may have suspected us," replied Frank.

"What! after all we did for him, took him in, and forgave his sins, even
to offering to mend any broken ribs, if he'd had any, through that horse
kick? I can't just understand that," Bob ventured, while he measured out
enough ground coffee to make a pot of the tempting hot beverage.

"He took the alarm, it seems," Frank went on, indifferently. "Knew we
wanted to find the man who had given him the talking paper; and was
afraid we might try to make him tell; or, that failing, stalk him when
he went to deliver my note. And on the whole I can't much blame the old
Indian. Suspicion is a part of their nature. He believed he was on the
safe side in slipping away as he did. Forget it, Bob. We've learned a
heap by his just dropping in on us, I think."

"Sure we have," replied the other, being busily employed over the fire
just then. "And I was thinking what he could have meant when he pointed
off in the direction I calculate the Grand Canyon lies, and said in
answer to one of your questions: 'Seek there! When the sun is red it
shines in Echo Cave!'"

"I've guessed that riddle, and it was easy," Frank remarked.

"Then let me hear about it, because I'm pretty dull when it comes to
understanding all this lovely sign language of the Indians," Bob
remarked.

"Listen, then. The sun is said to be red when its setting; that's plain
enough; isn't it, Bob?"

"All O.K. so far, Frank. I won't forget that in a hurry, either."

"Then, when he said it looked into the cave at sunset, it was another
way of telling us the cave faced the west!" Frank continued.

"Well, what a silly chap I was not to guess that," chuckled the other.

"And from what I know about the bigness of that canyon, Bob, I think
that this unknown Echo Cave must be pretty high up on the face of a big
cliff to the east of the river."

"Why high up? I don't get on to any reason for your saying that?"
inquired Bob.

"You'll see it just as soon as I mention why," remarked his companion.
"When the sun is going down in the west, far beyond the horizon, don't
you see that it can only shine along the very upper part of the cliffs?
The lower part is already lost in the shadows that drop late in the
afternoon in all canyons."

"Of course, and it's as plain to me now as the nose on my face," agreed
Bob. "Queer, how easy we see these things after they've been explained."

It did not take long to prepare breakfast, and still less time to eat it
once the coffee and venison were ready. Just as Frank had said, there
was plenty of the meat for the meal.

"That was a mighty juicy little antelope, all right," remarked Bob, as
he finished his last bite, and prepared to get up from the ground where
he had been enjoying his ease during the meal.

"And for one I don't care how soon you repeat the dose," remarked Frank;
"only it will be a long day before you get one of the timid little
beasts as easy as that accommodating chap fell to your gun. Why, he was
just a gift, that's all you could call it, Bob."

"That's what I've been thinking myself, though of course I don't know as
much about them as you do, by a long shot," Bob admitted. "I suppose
it's us to hit the saddle again now?"

"We're going to try and make Flagstaff by night," Frank announced, as he
picked up his saddle and bridle, and walked toward the spot where
Buckskin was staked out.

The horses had been able to drink all they wanted during the night, for
the ropes by means of which they were tethered allowed of a range that
took them to the little spring hole from which the water gushed, to run
away, and, in the end, possibly unite with the wonderful Colorado.

In ten minutes more the boys were off at a round gallop. There was no
intention of pushing their mounts so soon in the day. Like most persons
who have spent much time on horseback both lads knew the poor policy of
urging an animal to its best speed in the early part of a journey,
especially one that is to be prolonged for ten or twelve hours.

At noon they were far enough advanced for Frank to declare he had no
doubt about being able to make Flagstaff before sunset.

"When we get there, and spend a night at the hotel, we must remember
and ask if our friend Mr. Stanwix and his partner arrived in good time,
and went on," Bob suggested.

Just as Frank had expected, they made the town on the railroad before
the sun had dropped out of sight; and the horses were in fair condition
at that.

Flagstaff only boasts of a normal population of between one and two
thousand; but there are times, with the influx of tourists bound for the
Grand Canyon, when it is a lively little place.

The two boys only desired shelter and rest for themselves and their
horses during the night. It was their intention to push on early the
following day, keeping along the old wagon trail that at one time was
the sole means of reaching the then little known Wonderland along the
deeply sunk Colorado.

After a fairly pleasant night, they had an early breakfast. The horses
proved to be in fine fettle, and eager for the long gallop. So the two
saddle boys once more started forth.

The day promised to be still warmer than the preceding one; and the
first part of the journey presented some rather difficult problems. They
managed to put the San Francisco Mountains behind them, however, and
from that on the dash was for the most part over a fairly level plateau.

Now and then they were threading the trail through great pine forests,
and again it was a mesa that opened up before them.

Bob was especially delighted.

"Think we'll make it, Frank?" he asked, about the middle of the
afternoon, as they cantered along, side by side, the horses by this time
having had pretty much all their "ginger" as Bob called it taken out of
them, though still able to respond to a sudden emergency, had one
arisen.

"I reckon so," replied the other. "According to my map we're within
striking distance right now. Given two more hours, and we'll possibly
sight the border of the big hole. That was Red Horse Tank we just
passed, you know," and he pointed out their position on the little chart
to Bob.

It was half an hour to sundown when the well known Grand View Hotel
stood out in plain sight before them; and before the shades of night
commenced to fall, the tired boys had thrown themselves from their
saddles, seen to the comfort of the faithful steeds, and mounted to the
porch of the hotel for a flitting view of the amazing spectacle that
spread itself before them, ere darkness hid its wonderful and majestic
beauty.




CHAPTER XII

HOW THE LITTLE TRAP WORKED


"What do you think of it?" asked Frank, after they had stood there a
short time, taking in the picture as seen in the late afternoon.

"It's hard to tell," Bob replied slowly. "It's so terribly big, that a
fellow ought to take his time letting the thing soak in. That further
wall looks as if you could throw a stone over to it; and yet they say
it's more than a mile from here."

"Yes," Frank went on, "and all along in the Grand Canyon there are what
seem to be little hills, every one of which is a mountain in itself.
They only look small in comparison with the tremendous size of the
biggest gap in the whole world."

"And how far does this thing run--is it fifty miles in length?" Bob
asked.

"I understand that the river runs through this canyon over two hundred
miles," the other replied. "And all the way there are scores, if not
hundreds, of smaller canyons and 'washes,' reaching out like the fingers
of a whopping big hand; or the feelers of a centipede."

"That's what I read about it away back; but I had forgotten," Bob
remarked. "And they say that it would be a year's trip to try and follow
the Grand Canyon all the way down from beginning to end, only on one
side."

"I reckon it would, for you'd have to trace every one of these lateral
gashes up to its source, so as to cross over. And that would mean
thousands of miles to be covered."

"Gee!" exclaimed Bob, throwing up his hands as he spoke; "when you say
that, it makes a fellow have some little idea of the size of this hole.
And to think it's come just by the river eating away the soil!"

"They call that erosion," remarked Frank, who had of course posted
himself on many of these facts, during his previous visit to the canyons
of the Little Colorado. "It's been going on for untold thousands of
years; and as the river with its tributaries has gradually eaten away
the soil and rocks, it has left the grandest pictured and colored walls
ever seen in any part of this old earth."

"When that afternoon sun shines on the red rocks it makes them look
almost like blood," declared Bob. "And already I'm glad we came. I think
just now I could be happy spending months prowling around here, finding
new pictures every day."

"Then you don't blame old Uncle Felix for staying, do you?" laughed
Frank.

"Sure I don't," returned the other lad, with vehemence. "And besides,
you must remember that he had another string to his bow."

"Meaning his craze to be the fortunate man of science to unravel the
mystery that has always hung over the homes of those cliff dwellers?"
Frank went on.

"I can understand how it must appeal to a man living as Professor Felix
has all these years," mused Bob. "And think of those queer old fellows
picking out this one place of all the wide country to build their
homes."

"That was because there could be no place that offered them a tenth of
the advantages this did," Frank remarked, pointing across the wide chasm
to the towering heights that could be seen. "Think of hundreds of miles
of such cliffs to choose from! And as the softer rock was washed out by
the action of floods countless ages ago, leaving the harder in the shape
of astonishing shelves and buttes, these people took a lesson from
nature, and carved their roomy homes by following the pliable stone."

"Say," Bob exclaimed, "that makes me think of what I read about the
catacombs of Rome; how, for hundreds of miles, they run in every
direction, following the course of veins of earth in the rock, that
were selected by those who dug 'em."

"Of course," said Frank, "these people built their homes up in the
cliffs in order to be safe. Nobody seems to know what they were afraid
of, whether savage tribes, or great beasts that may have roamed this
part of the country a thousand and more years ago."

"And that's the bait that has drawn the old scientist here, to study it
all out, and write up the history of the people who looked on this very
picture so many hundreds of years back. Why, Frank, some of the cliffs
they say are about a mile high! That's hard to believe, for a fact."

"But it's been proved true," the other asserted. "The trouble is, that
everything here is on such an awful big scale that a fellow fools
himself. Actual measurement is the only way to prove things. The eye
goes back on you. Why, I've looked out on a clear day in Colorado, and
believed I could walk to a mountain in an hour. They told me it's base
was fifty miles away; and there you are."

"Well, we'll have to put off looking till morning," said Bob,
regretfully; "because the sun's dropped out of sight, and it's getting
pretty thick down there in the hole. And to think that to-morrow we'll
be pushing along through that place, with the walls shutting us in on
both sides."

"Not only to-morrow, but for many days, perhaps," Frank added; for more
than ever did he begin to realize the enormous task that confronted
them; it was almost like looking for a needle in a haystack; but if one
possesses a powerful magnet, even then the bit of steel may be recovered
in time.

Did they happen to know of any such magnet?

Almost unconsciously Frank's thoughts went out toward that old Moqui
brave, Havasupai, who had fled from his village because of some act
which he had committed; but who was now determined to return, and take
his punishment with the stoicism Indians have always shown.

The Moqui might be the connecting link! He alone knew where the hermit
had his lodging, possibly in one of those quaint series of cliff
dwellers' homes, which for some reason he called Echo Cave.

"We must ask if our friend Sheriff Stanwix has been here," Bob
suggested, as they went to their room to prepare for supper.

"Oh!" replied his chum, "I did that when I spoke with the clerk at the
desk. You were looking after the ponies at the time, so as to make sure
they'd be well taken care of for a week, or a month if necessary."

"And what did he tell you, Frank?"

"They got here, all right," came the reply. "If you'd looked sharp when
you were out there in the hotel stables, you might have recognized both
their mounts; for they left them here at noon to-day."

"Noon!" echoed Bob; "then they made mighty good work of it, to get ahead
of us all that time. I reckon you're going to tell me they've gone down
into the canyon, and put in several hours looking for their birds, the
two fellows who've given 'em the merry laugh more'n a few times."

"Guessed right the first shot," Frank went on, "but all that doesn't
concern us one half as much as some other information I struck."

"And you've been keeping it back from me, while we stood there on the
piazza, admiring the wonderful view," Bob remarked, with a touch of
reproach in his voice.

"There were people passing us, all the time," his chum explained; "and
besides, I wanted to keep it until we were alone, so we could talk it
over."

"Is it about that scheming cousin of your father's--what did you say his
name was--Eugene Warringford?"

"You got it straight enough," Frank admitted; "and what I learned, was
about him. I saw his name on the register, and he's somewhere about the
hotel right now. I had a suspicion that I saw some one trying to get
near us while we stood there, drinking in that picture; and Bob, while I
couldn't just hold up my hand and say for sure, I think it was that
tricky Abajo."

"The half-breed cowboy who left Circle Ranch because he had some news
for this Eugene that the fellow would be apt to consider mighty
valuable, because it meant a stake of a million or two dollars; is that
right, Frank?"

"The same Abajo," his chum continued; "which proves that those two are
bound up in a plot to win this game. If Eugene can only find Uncle Felix
he intends to get that paper in his possession, by fair means or foul."

"Then it's up to us to put a stopper in his little bottle!" declared
Bob.

"I'm wondering," Frank proceeded, "whether they've got any idea where to
look for the man who has hidden himself away for three years. Perhaps
they mean to keep tabs on us, and if we are lucky enough to discover
Uncle Felix, they hope to jump in, and snatch away the prize before we
can warn him."

"Say, this is getting to be a pretty mix-up all around," laughed the
Kentucky lad. "Here we are, meaning to try and follow the old Moqui; or
failing that, wait for him to fetch us a message from the hermit of Echo
Cave. Then Eugene, and his shadow, Abajo, are hanging around with the
idea of beating us at our game. Havasupai on his part will be heading
for the cave that lies in an unknown part of the Grand Canyon, and all
the while dodging about for fear that he is followed."

"Yes," added Frank, falling in with the idea; "and perhaps there are the
Moquis from his village who may have had word somehow of his return,
searching for Havasupai, and bent on bringing him to the bar of their
tribal law. To finish the game, think of our friends, the two sheriffs,
loose in the big gash, and hunting for the men who have snapped their
fingers in their faces so often across the line!"

"Well, it sure looks like there might be some warm times coming,"
remarked Bob. "I suppose we take our guns along with us when we're going
the rounds of the sights?"

"Wouldn't think of doing anything else," was Frank's reply. "No telling
when we might need 'em. Suppose, now, those two rascals the sheriffs are
after should learn in some way about the value of the paper Uncle Felix
has with him, wouldn't they just make it the game of their lives to try
and capture him? And I reckon Eugene, too, will be so dead in earnest
that he won't stop at little things, backed up by such a reckless
character as the Mexican. Yes, the repeating rifles go along, Bob!"

"This water feels fine after that long, dusty and tiresome ride, eh?"
remarked the young Kentuckian, as he splashed in the deep basin, and
then proceeded to use the towel vigorously.

"It certainly does," Frank admitted, as he did likewise.

Shortly afterward the two boys went down to supper. The hotel had its
usual number of guests, this being a favorite point for parties to start
on the tour.

"Don't look just now," said Frank, as they sat at a table; "but Abajo
has taken his seat right back of you. And it wasn't accident, either,
that made him do it; I believe he has been set to watch us!"

From time to time, as they ate, Frank would report as to what the
half-breed was doing; and while nothing occurred to actually prove the
fact, still he saw no reason to change his mind.

"And I'm going to find out if he's keeping an eye on us, so as to report
to his employer, Eugene Warringford," Frank announced, as they were
drawing near the end of the meal.

"That sounds good to me," Bob remarked; "but how will you do it?"

For answer Frank drew out a paper from an inner pocket.

"You see this document," he observed, with a solemn look. "Well, it's
only what you might call a dummy, being just an invitation I received a
little while back to invest in some worthless mines over in the Hualpai
Mountains of Mohave County. I kept it, meaning to figure out how these
sharpers work their game. Now, when I hand you this, look deeply
interested, as though it might be connected with the finding of Uncle
Felix."

"Oh! I see your move, and go you one better, Frank."

For some little time they seemed to be conversing intently. Frank would
occasionally tap the document, which he had sealed up in its envelope,
as though he laid great stress on it. Finally he placed it on the table
alongside his plate, and kept on talking.

Shortly afterward the boys left the table in apparently such a hurry
that they both forgot the envelope that lay there, half hidden by a
napkin.

Passing out of the room, they dodged back, and peered around the corner
of the doorway.

"There's the waiter at the table," said Bob. "Now he's found the fine
tip you left there, and is putting it in his pocket, with a grin. If
everybody treated him as well as that, he'd soon be owning one of these
hotels himself, Frank."

"Watch!" remarked his chum, in a low whisper. "Now he's discovered the
document lying there where I left it. He takes it up. Perhaps he sees
another dollar coming to him when he runs after us to return it."

"But there's somebody at his elbow," Bob went on to say; "and it's
Abajo, as sure as you live. He's saying something, and I reckon telling
the waiter that you asked him to get the packet. There, he slips some
money in the fellow's hand; and the waiter lets him take the envelope.
And we'd better slip behind this coat rack here, for Abajo will be
heading this way in a hurry."

And hardly had they carried out that programme ere the half-breed glided
past, one hand held in the pocket where he had thrust the "valuable"
document!




CHAPTER XIII

GOING DOWN THE CANYON TRAIL


"Was I right?" asked Frank, after the half-breed had disappeared.

"I should say yes," replied his chum, who had followed the vanishing
figure of Abajo with staring eyes.

"He got the precious paper, all right, eh?" Frank went on, chuckling.

"He sure did, and bribed our friend the waiter to let him carry it off.
Shows how you can trust anybody in the tourist country, where they are
nearly all out for the money," Bob declared, indignation struggling hard
with a sense of humor.

"But just stop and think how easy Abajo, sharp rascal that he is, rose
to my little bait?" laughed Frank. "Just as I expected, he was watching
us all the time we examined that wonderful paper, and of course he
believed it to be something for which his employer would reward him
heavily, if he could only lay hands on it."

Bob himself was laughing now, as the full sense of the ridiculous
character of Frank's little joke broke upon him.

"Oh! my, think what will happen when Mr. Warringford tears open that
envelope, and sees how his spy has been fooled!" he exclaimed.

"There's only one bad thing about it, Bob!"

"What is that?" inquired the other.

"Eugene is, I take it, a clever fellow," said Frank, seriously; "and
he'll understand that this was done with a purpose. It will make him
suspect that we're onto the game, and that we know he has the half-breed
watching our every move."

"Well, what of that, Frank?"

"Nothing, only after this we may expect they'll change their tactics
more or less, and play on another string of the fiddle," the other
saddle boy replied.

"All right," Bob remarked. "Forewarned is forearmed, they say; and if we
know Eugene is laying low for us, we can be on our guard."

"Yes, that's all very good," Frank went on, shaking his head; "but once
we get into the big canyon it may pay us to keep an eye out for
overhanging rocks."

"Say, you don't mean to tell me you think Eugene would go that far?"
demanded Bob, startled at the very idea of such a thing.

"I don't like to think he would; but you never can tell," Frank replied.
"When a man like Eugene Warringford sells his soul, and with a chance of
getting a big stake, he is generally ready to shut his eyes, and go the
limit."

"But, Frank, that would be terrible! One of those rocks, coming down
from the face of a high cliff, would seriously injure us!"

"Sure it would, and on that account we must keep on the watch all the
time," Frank continued. "But I don't see Abajo anywhere about the piazza
of the hotel; do you?"

"He's gone, and I reckon to carry that wonderful find of his to the man
who employs him," Bob remarked. "Wouldn't I give a dollar to be hiding
close by when he runs across Eugene, and they open the envelope you
sealed! Wow! it will be a regular circus! Can't you imagine that yellow
face of the half-breed turning more like saffron then ever when he
learns that we played him for a softy?"

"Well, if you were near by, Bob, I wouldn't be surprised if you just had
to stick your fingers in your ears," chuckled Frank.

"I reckon they will have a heap to say about it; and Abajo, after this,
won't take us for easy marks, will he?" Bob remarked, in a satisfied
tone.

A short time later they were in their room.

"You don't suppose now, Frank, that we'll be bothered to-night?" Bob
observed, as he stood there by the window looking out toward the Grand
Canyon.

At that the other laughed quite merrily.

"Don't give yourself any uneasiness about that, Bob," he remarked. "In
the first place nobody would bother trying to get up here, even if they
could, when so many better chances of reaching us will crop up after we
start into the canyon to-morrow. Then again, we haven't anything to be
stolen but our rifles, and what little cash we brought along for
expenses."

"Oh! I suppose I am silly thinking about it," admitted Bob, "but some
way that half-breed seems to be on my nerves. His face is so sly, and
his black eyes just glitter as I've seen those of a snake do when he's
going to strike. But, just as you say, it's foolish to borrow trouble,
and I must get those notions out of my head."

"That's the talk, Bob," his chum declared, heartily. "Morning will find
us in fine trim to make a start into this big ditch. And before another
night you'll be so filled with wonder over what you see that these other
things will take a back seat."

"But do you think we ever can find the hermit of Echo Cave?" asked Bob.

"I think we've got a pretty good chance, if we're left alone," came the
ready reply.

"Meaning if this Eugene Warringford keeps his hands off; and nothing
else turns up to balk us?" Bob asked.

"Yes, all of that, and more," Frank admitted.

"But already I find myself wishing we had somebody along with us, like
Old Hank Coombs for instance, Frank."

"Well, who knows what may happen?" said the other, a little
mysteriously. "D'ye know, Bob, I saw my dad winking at Hank when he
thought I wasn't looking; and on that account I've got half an idea he
meant to send the old man, perhaps with a second cowboy, along on our
trail. We may run across friends here when we least expect it."

"I hope it turns out that way," declared the Kentucky boy; "because Hank
is just what you might call a tower of strength when he's along.
Remember how fortunate it was he turned up when he did, at the time we
wanted to follow that plague of the cattle ranges, the wolf, Sallie? I
reckon we'd have had a much harder time bagging our game if Hank hadn't
been along."

"Well, get to bed now," Frank counseled; "and let to-morrow look out for
itself."

"All right, I'll be with you in three shakes of a lamb's tail," declared
Bob.

But before he left the window Frank noticed that he thrust his head out,
as if desirous of making sure that no one could climb up the face of the
wall, and find entrance there while they slept.

Bob was not a timid boy as a rule; in fact he was deemed rather bold;
but just as he said, that dark face of Abajo had impressed him
unfavorably; and he felt that the young half-breed would be furious when
he learned how neatly he had been sold.

Nor did anything happen during that night as they slept upon the border
of the Wonderland. Both lads enjoyed a peaceful sleep, and awoke feeling
as "fresh as fish," as Bob quaintly expressed it.

Breakfast not being ready they walked about, viewing the astonishing
features of the canyon as seen from the bluff on which the hotel stood.
Down in the tremendous gap mists were curling up like little clouds, to
vanish as they reached the line where the sunlight fell. It was a sight
that appalled Bob, who declared that he felt as though looking into the
crater of some vast volcano.

"Well," remarked Frank, "they did have volcanos around here, after this
canyon was pretty well formed, though perhaps thousands of years ago.
Great beds of lava have been found down in the bottom of the hole, so my
little guide book tells me. But look away off there, Bob, and see that
peak standing up like the rim of a cloud. Do you know what that is?"

"I heard one man say," Bob replied, quickly, "Navajo Peak could be seen
on a clear morning, and perhaps that's the one; but Frank, just think,
it's about a hundred and twenty miles off. Whew! they do things on a big
scale around here; don't they? I'd call it the playground of giants."

"And you'd about hit the bulls eye," his chum observed; "but there goes
the call for breakfast."

"I feel as if I could stow away enough for a crowd, this mountain air is
so fresh and invigorating," Bob remarked, as they headed for the dining
room.

Half an hour later they were once more in front of the hotel, and
interviewing a guide who had been recommended by the manager as an
experienced canyon man. It ended in their making terms with John Henry,
as the fellow gave his name; though of course Frank was too wise to tell
him what their real object was in exploring the tremendous gap. That
could come later on.

At about nine o'clock they started down the trail that led from Grand
View into the depths of the fearful dip. And as they descended,
following their guide, Bob found himself realizing the colossal size of
everything connected with the rainbow-hued canyon walls.

Nor was his mind made any easier when Frank took occasion, half an hour
later, to bend toward him, and say in the most natural manner possible,
though in low tones:

"They're on the job again, Bob--Abajo and Eugene--because I happened to
see them watching us start down the trail; and they had some one along
with them, perhaps a guide; so we'll have to take it for granted that
they mean to dog us all the time, hoping to steal our thunder, if we
make any lucky find!"




CHAPTER XIV

THE HOME OF THE CLIFF DWELLERS


Although Bob had anticipated such a thing, still the knowledge that it
was actually coming to pass gave him a thrill. For some little time he
did not say anything; but Frank could see him look uneasily up at the
walls that now arose sheer above their heads some hundreds of feet.

Frank had studied the situation as well as he could, both from a map of
the canyon which he found in the little guide book, and his own
observations. All the while he kept before him that admission on the
part of the old Moqui whom they had befriended, to the effect that the
Westering sun shone full in Echo Cave. So he expected to find the home
of the hermit-scientist high up in the wall on the Eastern side of the
Grand Canyon.

First he intended heading toward the East, and going just as far as they
could. Days, and perhaps weeks, might be spent in the search for the
strange cave that had once been the home of those mysterious cliff
people, which cavern Professor Oswald was occupying while studying the
lives and customs of the long departed people who had dug these
dwellings out of the rock.

At noon they had made good progress; but when the tremendous size of
that two hundred mile canyon was taken into consideration, with its
myriad of side "washes," and minor canyons, the distance that they had
covered was, as Bob aptly declared, but a "flea-bite" compared with the
whole.

And Frank declared time and again it had been a lucky thought that
caused his chum to suggest that they bring the field glasses along. They
were in almost constant use. Far distant scenes were brought close, and
high walls could be examined in a way that must have been impossible
with the naked eye.

Of course Frank was particularly anxious to scrutinize every colored
wall that faced the West. The rainbow tints so plainly marked, tier
above tier, called out expressions of deep admiration from the two lads;
but all the while they were on the watch for something besides.

When Frank ranged that powerful glass along the ragged face of a
towering cliff he was looking eagerly for signs of openings such as
marked the windows of the homes fashioned by the strange people of a
past age.

During the afternoon they actually discovered such small slits in the
rock--at least they looked like pencil markings to them when the guide
first pointed out the village of the ancient cliff dwellers; though on
closer acquaintance they found that the openings were of generous size.

"Shall we climb up that straggly path along the face of the wall, and
see what the old things look like?" asked Bob, as the guide made motions
upward.

"Yes, we ought to have our first sight of such places," Frank replied,
in a cautious tone. "Not that I expect we're going to find our hermit
there, or in any other village that's known to tourist travel. But we
ought to get an idea of what these places are like, you see. Then we'll
know better what to expect. And perhaps the conditions will teach us how
to discover _his_ hiding place."

Accordingly they started to climb upward, just as many other tourists
had been doing for years. There were even places, "aisles of safety,"
Bob called them, where one who was ascending, upon happening to meet a
descending investigator, could squeeze into a hole in the rock until the
other had slipped by.

Of course it was a risky climb, and no lightheaded person could ever
dream of taking it. But the two saddle boys were possessed of good
nerves and able to look downward toward the bottom of the canyon, even
when several hundred feet up in the air.

Then they entered the first hole. It seemed to be a fair-sized
apartment, and was connected with a string of others, all running along
the face of the cliff; so that those who occupied them in the long ago
might have air and light.

The boys observed everything with the ordinary curiosity expected of
newcomers. Frank even investigated to see if there were any signs to
indicate that those old dwellers in the canyon knew about the use of
fire; and soon decided that it was so.

"Well, what do you think about this?" Bob asked, after they had roamed
from one room to another. "For my part I think I'd fancy living in one
of those three story adobe houses of the Hopi Indians, we saw pictures
of at the hotel; or even a Navajo hogan. But one thing sure, these
people never had to worry about leaking roofs."

"No," added Frank, laughing; "and floods couldn't bother them, because
the Colorado never rose three hundred feet since it began cutting out
this canyon."

"And think of the grand view they had before their doors, with the
canyon in places as much as thirteen miles across, and mountains in
their dooryard, looking like anthills," Bob went on impressively.

"Makes a fellow feel mighty small; doesn't it?" Frank remarked, as he
stepped to a window to look out again.

"Makes me feel that I want to get down again to the trail," admitted
Bob. "I'm wondering whether it's going to be much harder getting back
than it was coming up."

"That's always the case," Frank declared, "as I've found out myself when
climbing up a steep cliff. But the guide is ready for you, Bob, if you
show signs of getting dizzy. You have seen that he carries a rope along,
just like the Swiss guides do."

"Oh! come, Frank! Go easy with me; can't you?" the other exclaimed. "I
hope I'm not quite so bad as that."

"All the same, Bob, don't take any chances; and if you feel the least
bit giddy, let me know. This is a case where an ounce of prevention is
better than a pound of cure. And a stout rope is a mighty good thing to
feel when your foot slips."

It turned out, however, that the Kentucky lad was as sure-footed as a
mountain goat. He descended the trail, with its several ladders, placed
there of course by modern investigators, without the least show of
timidity.

They continued along the bed of the wide canyon. At times they followed
the ordinary trail. Then again Frank would express a desire to have a
closer look at some high granite wall that hovered, for possibly a
thousand feet, above the very river itself; and this meant that they
must negotiate a passage for themselves.

No doubt John Henry, the guide, must have thought them the queerest pair
of tourists he had ever led through the mysteries of the Grand Canyon.
But as yet Frank had not thought fit to enlighten him. He was not
altogether pleased with the appearance of the guide, and wished to wait
until he knew a little more about his ways, before entrusting him with
their secret.

More than a few times during that day Frank believed he had positive
evidence that they were being watched. Of course they met frequent
parties of pilgrims wandering this way and that, as they drank in the
tremendous glories of the canyon; but occasionally the boy believed he
had seen a head thrust out from behind some rock in their rear, and then
hastily withdrawn again as he looked.

Of course he could make a guess as to who was taking such a interest in
the progress of his chum and himself. No one, save Eugene Warringford,
would bother for even a minute about what they were doing, since richer
quarry by far than a couple of boys would catch the eye of any lawless
desperado, like those the two sheriffs were following, bent on making a
haul.

"Frank," said Bob, when the afternoon was drawing to a close, and they
had begun to think of picking out the spot where they would spend the
night; "tell me why you chose to head toward the East instead of the
other way, where Bright Angel trail attracts so many tourists?"

Frank cast one glance toward the guide, as if to make sure that John
Henry was far enough in advance not to be able to catch what was said.

"I had a reason, Bob," he remarked, seriously. "Before we got down into
the canyon, so as to choose which way we would go, I talked with several
men who were coming up. And Bob, I learned that an old Moqui Indian had
been seen heading toward the East late last night!"

"And you think it may have been our friend, Havasupai?" asked Bob.

"I'm pretty sure of it, from the descriptions they gave me," came the
answer.

"But Frank, think how impossible it seems that he could have reached
here almost as soon as we did; unless the old warrior was able to fly I
don't see how it could be done."

"I'm just as much up a tree as you are, Bob," laughed the other; "but,
all the same, I believe the Moqui has arrived, and is on his way right
now to where Echo Cave lies."

"Then he must have an aeroplane to help him out, for I don't see how
else he could make it," Bob insisted.

"Think for a minute, and you'll see it isn't actually impossible," Frank
continued. "He could have made Flagstaff that night, just as we did."

"Yes," admitted Bob, "that's a fact; for while he said he was tired, and
wanted a mount to fly from his people, who were looking for him, still I
understand that these Moquis are wonderful runners, and game to the last
drop of the hat. Oh! I grant you that he could have made Flagstaff that
night sometime."

"Well, Flagstaff is on the railroad, you know," Frank remarked.

"Sure! I see now what you are hitting at," Bob observed; "the old Indian
must have had money, as all his kind have, what with the tips given by
tourists day after day. He could have come to Grand View on the train.
Frank, once more I knuckle down to your superior wisdom. That's what
Havasupai must have done, sure pop!"

"Anyhow," the other continued, "it pleases me to believe so; and that
the Moqui is even now hurrying to make connections with the hermit in
this mysterious Echo Cave. There's still another reason, though, why I
picked out this course up the river, instead of going down. It is
connected with the fact that the Moquis have their homes in this
quarter."

"Oh!" exclaimed Bob, "I catch on now to what you mean. The chances are
that the Moqui would be prowling around within fifty miles of his own
shack when he ran across the man-with-the-shining-spot-in-his-head,
otherwise the bald Professor Oswald."

"That's the point, Bob."

"It sure beats everything how you can get on to these things, Frank.
Here I'm going to be a lawyer some day, so they tell me; and yet I don't
seem to grab the fine points of this game of hide-and-seek as you do."

"Oh! well," Frank remarked, consolingly; "a lawyer isn't supposed to
know much about trails, and all such things. That comes to a fellow who
has spent years outdoors, studying things around him, and keeping his
wits on edge all the while."

"I hope to keep on learning more and more right along," said Bob.

"Here comes John Henry back, to tell us he has found a good place for
camping to-night; so no more at present, Bob."

It proved just as Frank had said. The guide declared that as the sun was
low down, the canyon would soon be darkening; and they ought to make a
halt while the chance was still good to see what lay around them.

Accordingly they made a camp, and not a great distance away from the
border of the swirling river that rolled on to pass through all the
balance of that wonderful gulch, the greatest in the known world.

They had come prepared for this, carrying quite a number of things along
that would prove welcome at supper time. A cheery fire was soon blazing,
and the guide busied himself in preparations for a meal; while the two
boys wandered down to the edge of the river, to throw a few rocks into
the current, and talk undisturbed.

"There are several other camps not far away," remarked Frank. "I could
see the smoke rising in two places further on."

"Yes," added Bob, "and there's one behind us too, for I saw smoke rising
soon after we halted. Perhaps that may be Eugene's stopping place; eh,
Frank?"

"I wouldn't be surprised one little bit. Just look at the river, how
silently it pushes along right here. It's deep too; and yet below a mile
or so it frets and foams among the boulders that have dropped into its
great bed from the high cliffs."

"And they do say some bold explorers have gone all the way through the
canyon in a boat; but I reckon it must be a terrible trip," Bob ventured
to say.

"Excuse us from trying to make it," laughed Frank; "by the time we'd
reach Mohave City, where that bottle was picked up, there wouldn't be
much left of us. But let's go back to camp now. John Henry must have
grub ready."

Three minutes later he suddenly caught Bob's sleeve.

"Wait up!" he whispered. "There's somebody talking to our guide right
now; and say, Bob, don't you recognize the fellow?"

"If I didn't think it was silly I'd say it was old Spanish Joe, the
cowboy we had so much trouble with on Thunder Mountain," Bob declared,
crouching down.

"Well, think again," said Frank; "and you'll remember that Abajo is his
nephew!"


[Illustration: "THERE'S SOMEBODY TALKING TO OUR GUIDE RIGHT NOW."

_Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon_ _Page 134_]




CHAPTER XV

THE TREACHEROUS GUIDE


"Why, of course he is," declared Bob; "and it looks as if our old
enemies had cropped up again, to join forces with the new ones. That
will make three against us; won't it, Frank?"

"The more the merrier," replied the other, but Bob could see that he was
inwardly worried over the new phase of the situation.

"Look at the way Spanish Joe is arguing with John Henry!" said Bob. "The
guide keeps pointing this way, as if he might be afraid we'd come back,
and see him talking with Old Joe. Now they shake hands, Frank. Do you
think any bargain has been struck between them?"

"I'm afraid it has," replied his comrade, gritting his teeth with
displeasure. "John Henry has sold us out, and gone over to the enemy for
cash. I saw him hide something in his pocket."

"Then what will we do about him?" asked Bob, clenching his fist, as if
it might give him considerable pleasure to take the treacherous guide
personally in hand, and teach him the needed lesson.

"That's easy," chuckled Frank. "We'll keep on guard to-night, and when
he sees how we hang to our guns he won't try any tricks, you may be
sure."

"And in the morning?" Bob went on.

"Why," declared Frank, firmly; "there's only one thing to be done--we
must fire John Henry, even if we have to pay him the whole sum agreed on
for the week."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Frank; because I'd hate to have him
along. Why, he might take a notion to step on my fingers when I was
climbing up after him, and claim it was only an accident, but if I had a
broken leg, or a cracked skull, that wouldn't do me any good, I take
it."

"There, Joe is moving off, and we can head for camp," Frank remarked, as
they still hovered behind the spur of rocks that had concealed them,
though allowing a view of the little camp.

"But you don't want to tell John Henry that we saw him making a bargain
with Spanish Joe, I take it?" Bob questioned.

"That's right, we don't; and try to keep from looking as if you
suspected him. Now his back is turned, come along," and Frank, rising,
led the way.

The preparations for supper went on apace. The guide was unusually
talkative, Bob thought, and he wondered whether it was not the result of
a disturbed conscience. Perhaps John Henry might not be wholly bad, and
was worried over having entered into an arrangement to betray his
generous young employers.

"What are we going to do for a guide when we let him go?" asked Bob,
later on, after they had eaten supper, and John Henry had wandered down
to the river for a dip, as he said.

"We'll have to trust to luck to pick up another," Frank declared. "And
if it comes to the worst, we can go it alone, I reckon. I've never been
up against such a big job as this, but I think I'd tackle it, if I had
to. But wait and see what another day brings out."

When it came time for them to retire they began talking about their
ranch habit of standing guard. The guide laughed at the idea of any harm
coming to pass while they were there in the canyon.

"Lots of other tourists are camping inside of three mile from here," he
said; "and I heard the sheriff of the county himself is somewhere down
in the canyon; so it don't look as how there could anything happen. But
just as you says, boys; if it makes you feel better to stand guard, I
ain't got a thing agin it."

The night passed without any sort of attack. Either Frank or Bob sat up
all the time, with a trusty rifle ready; but there was no occasion to
make use of the weapon.

With the coming of morning they made ready to eat a hasty breakfast.
After this was over Frank found himself compelled to discharge the
guide.

"We've concluded to do without your services, John Henry," he said, as
the man stood ready to start forth on the way along the canyon, heading
East.

"Me? Let me go? What for?" stammered the fellow; turning red and then
white as a consciousness of his guilt broke upon him.

"Here's what we promised to pay you for the week," continued Frank. "We
want no hard feelings about it. Never mind why we let you go. You can
think what you like. But next time you hire out to a party, John Henry,
be careful how you let anybody hand you over a few dollars to make you
turn against your friends."

The man tried to speak, and his voice failed him. They left him standing
there, holding the bills Frank had thrust into his hand, and looking
"too cheap for anything," as Bob said. Perhaps he feared that the boys
might tell what they knew about him, and in this way destroy his
usefulness as a canyon guide ever afterwards.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish!" declared Bob, after they had gone on
half a mile, and on looking back saw John Henry still standing there as
if hardly knowing whether to be sorry, or glad over having received
full pay for a week after only working a single day.

"And here we are cut loose from everybody, and going it on our own
hook," laughed Frank. "But it would be foolish for us to think of doing
without a guide if so be we can find one. We'll ask every party we meet,
and perhaps in that way we can strike the right man."

During the morning they came upon several parties making the rounds of
the Wonderland along the beaten channels. Sometimes women were in the
company, for the strange sights that awaited the bold spirit capable of
enduring ordinary fatigue tempted others besides men to undertake one of
the trips.

Just at noon the two boys came upon a lone Chinaman sitting at a little
fire he had kindled, cooking a fish, evidently pulled from the river by
means of a hook and line.

"Well, what do you think!" exclaimed Frank, as he stared at the
Oriental; "Bob, don't you recognize that cousin of our ranch cook, Ah
Sin, the same fellow who was down at our place five months ago? Hello!
Charley Moi, what are you doing in the big canyon, tell me?"

The Chinaman jumped up, and manifested more or less joy at the sight of
Frank. He insisted on shaking hands with both the boys.

"How do? Glad see Flank, Blob! Me, I cook for plarties in Gland Canyon.
Hear of chance gettee job up Gland View Hotel. Go there now. Alle samee
like see boys from Circle Lanch. How Ah Sin? Him berry veil last time
hear samee."

Frank had an idea.

"See here, Charley Moi," he said; "you say you've been about the big
canyon a long time now, serving as a cook to parties who go up and down.
Perhaps we might engage you to stay with us!"

"Me cook velly fine much all timee. You tly Charley Moi, you never say
solly do samee!" declared the Oriental, his moon-like face illuminated
with a childlike and bland smile.

"But we want you for a guide too, Charley; you ought to know a heap
about the place by this time," Frank went on.

"Alle light, me do," replied the other, glibly. "No matter, cookee or
guide, alle samee. Lucky we meet. Tly flish. Just ketchee from water.
Cook to turnee. Plentee for all. Then go like Flank, Blob say. Sabe?"

As it was nearly noon the boys were quite satisfied to make a little
halt, and taste the fresh fish which the Chinaman had succeeded in
coaxing from the rushing waters of the nearby Colorado.

Later on they once again made a start. Charley Moi did everything in his
power to prove his fidelity and faithfulness. He seemed proud of the
fact that the son of the big owner of Circle Ranch, where his cousin
worked as cook for the mess, trusted him, and had employed him as a
guide. Never before in the history of the Grand Canyon had a Chinaman
held such an exalted office; and Charley believed he had cause to feel
proud.

"Can we trust him?" Bob asked, as evening came on again. "I've always
heard that Chinamen are treacherous fellows."

"Then you've heard what isn't true," Frank replied. "A Chinaman never
breaks his word. Over in the Far East I've read that all the merchants
of British cities are Chinese. The Japs are a different kind of people.
Yes, we can trust Charley Moi. He would never betray us to our enemies."

Nevertheless, that night the boys also slept on their arms, so to speak.
One of them remained on guard at different times, the entire night.
Frank had learned caution on the range. He did not mean to be taken by
surprise; though he really believed that nothing would be done to injure
them until after they had found some trace of the hidden hermit of Echo
Cave.

Before another twelve hours had passed he had occasion to change his
opinion. The night did not bring any alarm in its train. Charley Moi was
up several times, shuffling around, looking at the fire, and sitting
there smoking his little pipe, as though in satisfaction over having
struck such a profitable job so easily; but he gave no sign of holding
any intercourse with outsiders.

With the coming of morning they were once more on the way. Frank noticed
with considerable satisfaction that now they seemed to be beyond the
ordinary limit of the various trails taken by the regular tourist
parties.

They were walking along, about the middle of the morning, when they
found themselves in a lonely region, where the dim trail led along the
foot of rugged walls stretching up, red and apparently unscalable, to
the height of hundreds of feet.

Frank was craning his neck as he looked up overhead, wondering if it
could be possible that there was any sign of an abandoned cliff
dwellers' village there, when he saw something move, and at the same
instant he jumped forward to pull his chum violently back.




CHAPTER XVI

A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY


Bob opened his mouth to call out, and ask what was the matter, that his
chum had seized upon him so fiercely. But he held his breath, for
something came to pass just then that made words entirely unnecessary.

A huge rock seemed to slip from its notch up on the side of the cliff,
and come crashing down, loosening others on the way, until finally the
rush and roar almost partook of the nature of a small avalanche.

Charley Moi had skipped out in a lively manner, and thus managed to
avoid being caught. Bob stared at the pile of broken rock, about which
hung a little cloud of dust.

"Wow! that was as close a call as I ever hope to have, Frank!" he
exclaimed, with a little quiver to his voice.

Frank himself was a bit white, and his hand trembled as he laid it on
that of his chum.

"I just happened to be looking up, and saw it trembling on the break,"
he said. "Only for that we might have been underneath all that stuff."

"But did you notice the clever way Charley Moi avoided the deluge?" said
Bob, trying to smile, though he found it hard work.

"Yes, it's hard to catch a Chinaman napping, they say," Frank went on.
"Three times this very day I've heard the thunder of falling rocks, and
that was what kept me nervous; so I watched out above. And, Bob, it
seemed as though I must have seen that big rock just trembling as it
started to leave the face of the cliff."

"Well, all I can say then, is, that you jumped to the occasion mighty
well. Some fellows would have been scared just stiff, and couldn't have
thrown out a hand to save a chum. But look here, Frank, you don't
imagine that thing was done on purpose, do you?"

Frank looked at his companion, with a wrinkle on his forehead.

"I don't want to think anybody could be so mean and low as to want to
hurt boys who'd never done them any harm," he said; "but all the same I
seem to have an idea that I got a glimpse of a man's arm when that rock
started to drop."

"Whew! you give me a cold chill, Frank," muttered Bob, gazing helplessly
upward toward the spot from which the descending rock had started on its
riotous tumble.

"Yes, and I hope I was mistaken," Frank went on. "I don't see anything
up there now; and perhaps it was only a delusion. All these bright
colors affect the eyes, you see. Then, again, it might have been some
goat jumping, that started that rock on its downward plunge."

"But you didn't see any goat, Frank, did you?" Bob asked, anxiously.

"No, I didn't," admitted the other; "but then there may be a shelf up
there, and any animal on it would be hidden from the eyes of those right
below."

They passed on; but more than once Bob craned his neck in the endeavor
to look up to that spot, from whence the loose rock had plunged. He
could not get it out of his head that foes were hovering about, who
thought so little of human life that they would conspire to accomplish a
death if possible.

The day passed without any further peril confronting them. Charley Moi
seemed to fill the bill as a guide, very well. He also knew the
different points of interest, and chattered away like a magpie or a
monkey as they kept pushing on.

Bob became curious to know just how the Chinaman could tell about so
many things when they were now above the trails used ordinarily by
tourists, who gave two or three days to seeing the Grand Canyon, and
then rushed away, thinking they had exhausted its wonders, when in fact
they had barely seen them.

He put the question to Charley Moi, and when the smiling-faced Chinaman
replied, Frank caught his breath.

"That easy, bloss," said Charley, nodding. "Happen this way. Long time
black me 'gage with sahib, like one know out in Canton. Think have samee
big joss some bit up here in canlon. Me to bling grub to certain place
evly two month. Him give me list what buy, and put cash in hand. Know
can trust Chinaman ebery time. Many time now me do this; so know how
make trail up-river, much far past same tourist use. Sabe, Flank, Blob?"

The two boys stared at each other, unable to say a word at first. It was
as if the same tremendous thought had come to each.

"Gee whiz! did you get on to that, Frank?" finally ejaculated Bob.

"I sure did," replied his chum, allowing his pent-up breath full play.

"Charley says he engaged himself to a gentleman long ago; perhaps it was
as much as three years back, the time that the professor disappeared
from the haunts of men. And, Frank, his part of the contract was to come
to a certain point away up here in the Grand Canyon, once every two
months, at a time agreed on, bringing a load of food, as per the list
given him by this mysterious party."

"It must be Professor Oswald!" exclaimed Frank. "I've been wondering all
the time how under the sun he could have supplied himself with food
these long months if he'd cut loose from the world, as he said in that
note he had. Now the puzzle begins to show an answer. Charley Moi is the
missing link. He has kept the professor in grub all the time. Did you
ever hear of such luck? First we run across that old Moqui, who has been
in touch with the man we want to find; and now here's the one who comes
up here every little while to deliver his goods, and get a new list, as
well as money to pay for the same. It's just the limit, that's what!"

He turned to the Chinaman, and continued:

"Did you happen to notice, Charley, whether this party you are working
for is a bald-headed man? Has he a shining top when he takes his hat
off; and does he bend over, as if he might be hunting for diamonds all
the time?"

The Chinese guide smirked, and bobbed his head in the affirmative.

"That him, velly much, just same say. Shiny head, and blob this away
alle time," with which he walked slowly forward, bending over as though
trying to discover a rich vein of gold in the seamed rock under his
feet.

"Shake hands, Bob," said Frank. "We're getting hot on the trail. Now we
needn't have any doubt at all about the choice of the eastern route.
It's the right one; and somewhere further on we're just bound to find
Echo Cave."

"Then all we've got to fear, Frank, is the work of Eugene and his crowd.
Let us keep clear of that bad lot, and we're going to succeed. Any time,
now, we may glimpse our old Moqui, returning with a message from the
professor, if he sees fit to reply to your appeal. He may, though, be so
set and stubborn that nothing will move him from his game of hiding.
Then we'll have to get that paper, with his signature, and save the mine
for his family."

"That's what I mean to do," replied the other, with grim determination.
"If he's so wrapped up in his scheme that he just won't come out, we're
going to do the best we can to save his fortune in spite of him. There's
his daughter Janice to think of. Above all, we mustn't let that schemer,
Eugene Warringford, get his fingers on the document."

That night they made camp in a little cave that offered an asylum. The
boys rather fancied the idea for a change. And they passed a very
comfortable night without any alarm.

Once, Bob being on duty near the mouth of the opening, heard a shuffling
sound without. He could not make out whether it was caused by the
passage of a human being, or a bear. Half believing that they were about
to be attacked by some animal that fancied the cave as a den, he had
drawn back the hammer of his rifle, and watched the round opening that
was plainly seen at the time, as it was near morning, and the small
remnant of a moon was shining without.

But he waited in vain, and, as the minutes passed without any further
alarm, Bob heaved a sigh of relief. It was all very well to think of
shooting big game; but under such conditions he did not much fancy a
close battle.

When morning came, and he had told Frank about it, the other immediately
went out to look for traces of the animal. As he came back Bob saw by
the expression on his chum's face that Frank had made some sort of
discovery.

"How about it?" he asked.

"It was no bear," replied the other, decidedly.

"But sure I heard something moving, Frank, and I was wide-awake at the
time, too," Bob protested.

"I guess you were, all right," Frank admitted. "A man passed by, not far
from the mouth of the cave. He even stooped down, and looked in, though
careful not to let his head show against the bright background. Then he
went off again up the canyon."

"Since you know so much, Frank, perhaps you could give a guess as to who
he was," said Bob, eagerly.

"No guess about it," came the reply. "I've examined his track before,
and ought to know it like a book. It was Abajo, Bob!"

"Then ten to one, Spanish Joe and Eugene were close by!" declared Bob.
"Say, do you really believe he knew we were in here?"

"Of course he did," Frank asserted. "Perhaps they saw us enter. But
Abajo also knows that both of us are fair shots. He did not dare take
the chance of trying to creep in. It would be more dangerous than our
going into that wolf den."

"The plot seems to be thickening, Frank. It won't be long now before
something is bound to happen. If we could only run across the old Moqui
now, and hear that he carried a message in answer to your note, that
would clear the air a heap, wouldn't it?"

"Well, we must live in hopes," replied Frank, cheerfully. "And now,
after a bite which Charley Moi is getting ready for us, we'll be off
again, and tackle the roughest traveling in the whole canyon, so he
says. But he knows the way, because he was led up here by the old
professor, and told to come back every two months."




CHAPTER XVII

THE WINDOWS IN THE ROCKY WALLS


"Well, here it's the fourth day we've been out, and nothing doing yet,
Frank!"

Bob spoke gloomily, as though the unsuccessful search was beginning to
pall upon him a little. Boys' natures differ so much; and while the
young Kentuckian had many fine qualities that his chum admired, still he
was not so persistent as Frank.

Nothing could ever daunt the boy from Circle Ranch. Difficulties, he
believed, were only thrown in his way to bring out the better parts of
his nature. The more a fellow found himself "up against it," as Frank
called meeting trouble half-way, the stronger became his character.

"Oh! well, now, Bob, I wouldn't say that," he answered the complaint of
his chum. "Just think what tremendous progress we've been making right
along. And if the very worst comes, didn't Charley Moi say that it was
only a week now before he must get another stock of things to eat, and
won't he have to wait at the place of meeting, for the 'learned sahib'
to appear, and take them from him, as he has done so often? Why, we can
be in hiding nearby, and meet the professor, even against his will."

"That's so," Bob admitted, the argument proving a clincher; "and I
reckon I'm a silly clown to think anything else."

"No, you're only tired, after a pretty tough day, that's all," Frank
declared. "When you've had a rest you'll feel better. I'm more used to
this sort of thing than you are, old fellow; but all the same we must
admit that we're getting the greatest view ever of this old canyon."

"That's so, Frank, and it's worth all the climbing and sliding, too. But
every time we've discovered signs of any of those old deserted homes of
the cliff dwellers, why, we find they've been visited time and again by
curious folks hoping to discover some treasure, or keepsakes of the
extinct people. No chance for the old professor to hide away there."

"But pretty soon we're going to discover a new batch of those caves in
the face of the rock, something unknown to all other searchers. We'll
find it by the aid of this same glass; and because we're looking for it,
high up. In all these other cases you see, Bob, there were shelves of
rock above shelves; and new ladders have been made by the guides, so
that anybody with nerve could climb up and up. Now these ladders give
the thing away. And I've somehow got the notion in my head that in the
case of the rock dwellings where the professor is hiding himself, there
is no outward sign in the shape of ladders."

"But in that case, Frank, how under the sun could the old fellows ever
get up to their dens, which you said must be near the top of a high
cliff?"

"Well, that's something we're going to find out later on, you see,"
replied the other, serenely. "Perhaps they had some way of lowering
themselves from the top by means of a rope, or a stout, wide grape vine.
Then, again, there may be some cleft in the rock farther away, that no
one would notice; but which was used as a trail, running up into the
cliff, and to the rock houses."

"It does take you to figure out these things," declared Bob, in
admiration, as they trudged along, with Charley Moi in advance.

"Then we haven't yet got to the place where the Chinese buyer meets his
employer with the eatables?" Bob remarked after a little silence.

"The last time I asked him he kept saying it was only a little farther
along," replied Frank.

"There, look at him stopping right now; and Frank, he's grinning at us
in a way that can only mean one thing. That must be where he always
waits for the queer old gentleman to show up."

"How about that, Charley; is this the place where you hang out?" asked
Frank, as they hastened to join the guide.

"Allee samee place," replied Charley Moi, waving his yellow hand around
him. "Not know where shaib come fromee, always turn roundee rock," and
he pointed to a large outlying mass that had, ages ago, become detached
from the towering cliff overhead, and fallen in such a fashion as to
partly obstruct the canyon trail.

Frank looked around him eagerly.

"We must be getting warmer all the time," he remarked; "and if you just
take a look at that river right now, you'll see that up yonder the rock
rises up almost from its very flood. When the water is high it must
sweep along against the face of that big cliff. And Bob, something seems
to tell me that somewhere inside of a mile or so, we're going to find
what we're looking for."

"Oh! I hope so!" echoed Bob, with a look of expectancy on his face; for
he always put great reliance on the common sense of his chum; and when
Frank said a thing in that steady tone, the Kentucky boy believed it
must be so.

Frank called a halt then and there.

"We're tired, anyway," he said, "and might as well spend the night here.
Besides, I just want to find a place were I can take a good look through
the glass up at that cliff near the top. It faces the West, all right,
you see; and the indications are that somewhere or other I'll find
signs of the queer windows belonging to some of those cave houses."

The camp was made, and Charley Moi busied himself with his fire. Bob had
some things he wished to attend to; while Frank took the glass, and,
settling down in a place where he believed he could get a fair view of
the upper strata of colored rock, began carefully scrutinizing the
cliff.

"The time is right, because the old Indian said the Westering sun shone
in the mouth of Echo Cave," Frank mused, as he pursued his work, not
disappointed because failure came in the beginning.

Frank had been at work possibly six or eight minutes when he gave
utterance to a low exclamation. Then he fixed his field glasses upon a
certain spot as though something had caught his attention there.

"Bob!" he called out.

"Want me?" asked his chum from the spot where the fire was burning.

"Yes, come here please," Frank continued.

Bob quickly complied with the request. He knew that although his
camp-mate spoke in such a quiet tone, he had evidently made a discovery.
Frank could repress his feelings even in a moment of great excitement,
which was something beyond the ability of the more impetuous Kentucky
lad.

"What have you found, Frank?" he asked, as he reached the side of the
other.

"Here, take the glass," said Frank. "Point it toward that little cone
that seems to rise up like a chimney above the level of the cliff top.
Got it now? Well, let your glass slowly drop straight down the face of
the rock. Never mind the glint of the sun, and the fine rich color. I
know it's just glorious, and all that; but we're after something more
important now than pictures and color effects. What do you see, Bob?"

"Honest now, I believe you've hit the bulls-eye this time, Frank."

"Then you think they're windows, about after the same style as those
holes in the rock where we climbed up the ladders to the deserted homes
of the old time cliff dwellers?" asked the other.

"Sure they are; no mistake about it, either," replied Bob, and then he
gave a low exclamation.

"What did you see?" demanded Frank, as if suspecting the truth.

"I don't know," came the reply; "but something seemed to move just
inside one of those openings. It may have been a garment fluttering in
the breeze that must be blowing so far up the heights; and then, again,
perhaps some hawk, or other bird, has its nest there, and just flew
past. I couldn't say, Frank; but I saw _something_, and it moved!"

Frank took the glass, and looked long and earnestly.

"Whatever it was," he remarked, "it doesn't mean to repeat the act. But
all the same, Bob, I've got a hunch we've found the place, and that Echo
Cave lies far up yonder in that beetling cliff."

"It's a fierce reach up there," remarked Bob, as he scanned the height.
"How under the sun d'ye suppose that old professor could ever get up and
down? Too far for him to have a rope ladder; and even if he had, how
could he reach the place at first? Frank, all the way up, I can't see
the first sign of any rock shelves, where ladders might have rested long
ago."

"That's so," replied the other, reflectively. "The face of the cliff is
as even and smooth as a floor. Nobody would ever look to find a cluster
of cliff dwellers' homes up there; that is, nobody but a man like
Professor Oswald, who has made a life study of such things, and knows
all the indications. But something tells me we're pretty near the end of
our long trail. The only question now is, how can we get in touch with
the hermit of Echo Cave?"

As night settled down the two boys returned to the fire, still
perplexed.




CHAPTER XVIII

FINDING A WAY UP


That night they kept no fire going. Frank seemed to think it best that
they remain quiet, so as not to announce their presence in the
neighborhood. Though for that matter, it would seem that if any one were
perched aloft in one of those slits in the face of the cliff, that
represented the windows of the cave dwellings, the entire canyon below
must be spread out like a book.

Nothing happened to disturb them. Once Frank thought he heard a distant
shout, and this excited his curiosity not a little. According to what
Charley Moi said they were now in a neighborhood where ordinary tourists
never visited.

He thought of the two sheriffs and the lawless men they were pursuing.
Could it be possible that they were destined to run across those
desperate characters sooner or later?

The thought was a disquieting one. It served to make Frank wakeful, and
his restlessness was communicated to Bob, although the latter did not
know what caused it.

But if the fugitives from justice were loitering around in that
particular part of the Grand Canyon, either hiding from the determined
sheriffs, or looking for rich quarry, neither they or anyone else
disturbed the camp of the saddle boys.

Again, in the morning, Charley Moi lighted a fire, and made ready to
prepare a modest breakfast. As Bob had said, their supplies were running
low, and unless something happened very soon the Chinaman would have to
be dispatched to the nearest store to replenish the food.

Still thinking of the sound he had heard during the night, and which he
believed must have been a human voice, rather than the cry of some wild
animal, Frank, while they sat cross-legged around the fire, eating the
scanty meal, addressed himself to the Chinaman.

"How many times have you come up this far, Charley Moi?" he asked.

The other commenced to figure on his fingers. Having no counting board,
used so frequently by his countrymen in laundries, until they get
accustomed to the habits of the white man, he took this means of
tabulating.

"Allee fingers and this much over," and he held up the first and second
fingers of one hand.

"Ten and two, making twelve in all," declared Bob. "Well, you have
served the man-with-the-bald-head faithfully and long, Charley."

"And in all these times I suppose you've never known anybody to be
around here?" Frank went on.

Charley shook his head in the negative.

"White man, no. Sometime Moqui come 'long, make for stlore down canlon
get glub. See same two, thlee times. Charley Moi see old Moqui last
night," the Chinaman replied.

"What's that you say?" demanded Frank, hastily. "That you saw a Moqui
last night, and after we had come to halt right here?"

"Thatee so," grinned the other, as though pleased to feel that he was
able to interest Frank so readily.

"Just when did this happen, Charley Moi?" pursued the other.

"Flank, Blob, down by river, make muchee look-look in glass," answered
Charley.

"Now, what d'ye think of that?" ejaculated Bob, in disgust. "While we
were away from camp for ten minutes, something happened. Why couldn't it
have come about when we were on deck? There's a fine chance lost to get
track of Havasupai; for I reckon you believe the same as I do, Frank,
and that the old Moqui whom Charley saw was _our_ Indian?"

"Seems like it, Bob," replied the other, "but don't cry yet. Perhaps it
may not be too late to remedy matters. See here, Charley Moi, could you
show me just where you saw this Moqui last?"

The yellow-skinned guide smirked, and nodded his head until his pigtail
bobbed up and down like a bell rope.

"Easy do," he observed, beginning to get upon his feet.

"Come along Bob," remarked Frank. "We'd all better be present. Three
heads are better than one when it comes to a question of deciding what's
to be done."

"Do you think you can track him, Frank?" questioned the Kentucky boy,
eagerly.

"I'm going to try," was all Frank would say; for he was very modest with
regard to his accomplishments as a son of the prairie.

Charley Moi was as good as his word. He seemed to remember just where he
had happened to spy the passing Indian when looking up from the making
of the fire. The Moqui had paid no attention to him; indeed, at the time
he was creeping past as though taking advantage of the absence of the
two boys in order to make a circuit of the camp near the big cliff.

"Find 'em Frank?" asked Bob, after he had seen his chum bending down
over the ground for half a minute.

"Yes, and they are the tracks of an Indian too, for they toe in," Frank
replied. "Besides, they are made by moccasins instead of shoes or boots
with heels. And if I needed any further proof to tell me our friend
Havasupai made these tracks, and not a strange Moqui, I have it in the
queer patch across the toe of his right moccasin, which I noticed when
he was with us before."

"That's just fine!" Bob exclaimed, filled with pride over the way in
which his chum seemed able to fix the facts so that they could not be
questioned. "And will you start after him right away, Frank?"

"Watch me; that's all," came the reply, as Frank began to move away,
still bending low in order to follow the faint traces of footprints on
the rock and scanty soil.

The others came close at his heels, Bob with a look of assurance on his
face, because he felt positive that the game would now be tracked to its
hiding place; and Charley Moi picturing his wonder on his moon-like
countenance.

So the prairie lad led them in and out among the rocks, and the scrub
that grew close to the verge of the river. Several times he seemed a
little in doubt, as the marks faded entirely away; but on such occasions
his common-sense came to the rescue, and, after a look around, Frank was
able to once more find the trail.

"Here's where it ends!"

When Frank made this remark Bob could not keep from expressing his
surprise.

He gaped upward at the bare-faced wall that arose for hundreds of feet,
without any particular ledge or outcropping where even a nimble Indian
could find safe lodgment for his moccasined feet.

"But, Frank, however could the old Moqui get up there to see Uncle
Felix?" he asked. "D'ye suppose he made some sort of signal, and the
hermit lowered a long rope with a noose at the end, which would draw him
up? Wow! excuse me from ever trying to fly in that way! It would make me
so dizzy I'd be sure to drop, and get smashed."

"You're beating on the wrong track, Bob," remarked the other. "No rope
could be lowered all that distance; and even if it could no one man
would be able to pull another all the way up."

"But there must be some way of getting to the place where the slits in
the face of the cliff tell of windows. However do you think he did it,
Frank?"

"Just because you don't happen to see a ladder, Bob, is no evidence
there isn't a way to mount upward. One thing about this great cliff I
guess you didn't happen to notice. That shows you pass things by. Look
again, and you'll see that it seems to have been split by some volcanic
smash, ages ago. There's a regular crevice running slantingly up the
face of the rock. You see it now, don't you?"

"Sure I do; and I was blind not to take notice of the same before," Bob
replied. "Fact is, I did see that uneven mark, but just thought it was a
fault in the make of the cliff, as a miner would say."

"Well, that crack extends four-fifths of the way up to the top; and far
enough to reach the place where we noticed all those dark marks, which
we believed must be windows of the many rooms or houses of the cliff
dwellers. Get that, Bob?"

"Sure I do, Frank, and after your explanation I can see what you're
aiming at. But where does that ragged crevice start from down here, do
you think?"

Frank stepped forward. Just as if he had it all figured out, he bent
down, and with his hand drew aside the bushes that grew against the base
of the cliff.

"Well, I declare, there it is for a fact!" exclaimed Bob, as he saw a
rough opening before him, which came almost together five feet from the
ground, leaving only a dark, uneven, slanting line that crawled up the
face of the cliff like the photograph of a zigzag bolt of lightning
taken with a snapshot camera.

"There you are," said Frank, with a broad smile. "Unless all signs fail,
here's the entrance to the mysterious Echo Cave. We have been more than
lucky to find it with so little trouble."

"Just to think of it," remarked Bob, as he bent over to look up into the
gap as well as he was able; "here's where the queer old Professor has
been hiding for all this time, and no one any the wiser. But Frank,
however in the wide world do you suppose he found out the way to get up
there?"

"We would have found it sooner or later, even if Charley Moi had not
seen the old Indian moving along," replied Frank, with the confidence of
one who knows what he is talking about.

"Y--yes, I reckon we would, after you'd prowled around a little, and had
some chance to look the ground over. Then you believe he must have found
the presence of those windows looking out of the cliff just like we did;
by using a powerful glass? And, thinking that here was the very place
for him to hide and study, he set about looking for the road up, and
found it, very likely."

"He did it by using common sense, and applying all he knew about the
ways of these people of the long ago," replied Frank. "And you can see
that if he chose, he could have thrown that bottle out of one of the
openings up there, so that it would drop in the passing current of the
Colorado, to be carried down-stream until somebody saw it; and finding
the message to my father, sent or carried it to Circle Ranch."

"Well," observed Bob, with a gleam in his eye, "now that we've found a
way to get up to Echo Cave, have we the nerve to start in?"




CHAPTER XIX

FORTUNE STILL FAVORS THE BRAVE


Instead of replying at once to this question, as Bob undoubtedly thought
his chum would do, Frank seemed to give a start. He dropped to his hands
and knees, and seemed to be examining some marks on the ground.

If ever the fair knowledge of reading tracks which Frank possessed was
called upon to do duty, it was now. Bob, of course, could not understand
what possessed his comrade; but simply stood there and stared, wondering
what Frank had found to cause him to exhibit such breathless interest,
and all the signs of unusual excitement.

When finally the lad on his knees did look up, Bob saw a grave
expression on his face.

"There's something wrong, Frank; tell me what it is?" he demanded.

"I've made an unpleasant discovery, Bob," replied the other. "Charley!"
he added turning to the wondering Celestial, "go back to our camp, and
bring our guns right away, both of them, see?"

"Yep, bloss, me unelstand. Charley Moi gettee gluns light away quick!"
and as he said this the obliging Chinaman went on a run, his pigtail and
blue blouse flying out behind him.

"Say, whatever does all this mystery mean, Frank?" asked Bob, almost
helplessly.

"Just what you might imagine; that there's danger hanging about us,
Bob."

The eyes of the astonished Bob sought the ground at the point where his
chum had been so deeply interested.

"Then it must be something you just discovered there, and that's a
fact," he declared; "because you didn't act this way three minutes ago."

"I happened to discover footprints coming from another quarter," Frank
went on, calmly; "and they headed into this crevice, just as those of
the moccasined Moqui did from that side. And they came after old
Havasupai had gone up, for I found where they wiped out a part of one of
his tracks."

"Footprints, and were they made by the old professor, do you think?"
asked Bob.

"Not any. Fact is," observed Frank, as though deciding to have the worst
over, "they were the tracks of three persons, all men!"

"Oh! my! three, you said, Frank; and that would mean Eugene, Spanish
Joe, and Abajo, wouldn't it?"

"Just the very ones I meant," replied Frank.

"Then they must have been hiding some place near here, and saw the Moqui
pass in?" suggested Bob, fully aroused by now.

"That seems to be what happened," Frank observed. "But here comes
Charley Moi with the guns. See how he dodges about, so as to keep hidden
from the view of anybody up in those windows above, which we can't
glimpse from here."

When Bob eagerly took his repeating rifle from the hands of the Chinaman
he exhibited all the evidence of great satisfaction; for he heaved a
sigh of relief, and fondled his weapon in a way that caused his comrade
to smile.

"I feel better now," Bob confessed; "because, to tell the honest truth,
when you broke the news so suddenly it nearly gave me heart failure,
Frank, to think that if those rascals sprang out at us we would be next
door to helpless. Now let 'em be careful how they play their little
game. But what does it all mean, do you suppose, Frank?"

"I can only make a guess, and that may be wide of the truth," the other
admitted. "By some accident they managed to get on the track of the
Moqui. Though Havasupai thought himself smart, he was no match for such
a cunning rascal as Spanish Joe, who is said to be the best trailer
along the Arizona border. And they followed him right here."

"That was last evening, just when you and I stood there down by the
river, looking through the glasses up at the windows of the rock houses
above," remarked Bob.

"Yes. Perhaps they didn't go up right then." Frank went on. "I admit
that I can't just make out how long ago these tracks were made. A better
trailer might, you see, Bob. If Old Hank Coombs were only here now I'd
be glad to turn the whole business over to him, and play second fiddle."

"But some time between dark and morning these three rascals went in
here, and surprised the hermit of Echo Cave--is that it, Frank?"

"It covers the case all right," came the reply.

"Say, do you think they are up there yet?" asked the Kentucky lad, in an
anxious tone.

"I think they must be, Bob, because all the tracks point one way,
showing that the three men never came back. If they left the cave it
must have been by some other way."

"No use asking why they would want to get in touch with Uncle Felix!"
continued Bob, as if bent on finding out everything he could in
connection with the case.

"We know what their reason was," Frank made answer. "When Abajo, hanging
about the window of our ranch house, heard what we had to say about the
message that came floating down the Colorado in that bottle, and carried
the wonderful news to his employer, Eugene Warringford, he set the game
going that must end right here. He has come with the intention of making
Professor Oswald turn over that option to him; and he'll do it unless
something we can offer prevents."

"But Frank, if the Moqui carried that note of yours to Uncle Felix, he
would be on his guard, and absolutely refuse to sign away the papers?"

"I hope he will, but I fear that those three scamps are up there right
now, trying to coax or bulldoze him into signing," Frank said, with a
tightening of his lips, and a flash of his clear eyes.

"Then we go up, and put a spoke in their wheel, do we?" asked Bob,
looking as if he were ready to make the start instantly, if his comrade
but gave the word.

Frank glanced around him a little uncertainly.

"I've got a good notion to try it," he muttered as if talking to
himself.

"What's that you say, Frank?" asked his companion, who had caught the
words, and did not know what to make of them.

"I didn't tell you, Bob," Frank remarked; "but during the night I
thought I heard a voice calling far away yonder. And somehow it struck
me at the time that there was a familiar cowboy yell about it."

"Old Hank Coombs, perhaps, Frank?" suggested the other lad, quickly.

"That was on my mind, Bob. You know history often repeats itself. Once
before, just when we seemed to need Hank the worst way, he came riding
along as if he had heard us call. And I was wondering whether he might
not be somewhere around here right now."

"That would be just prime, if only we could get in touch with him," Bob
declared. "And, as your father wouldn't send Hank alone, there'd be one
more cowboy along. That would make a party of four. Why, those three
rascals would just shrivel, and throw up the sponge, if they saw us
break in on 'em. But Frank, how about making the old range call?"

"D'ye know, I was just thinking it might do to try it," remarked the
other.

"Then start in and give the whoop," Bob observed. "No harm done anyhow;
even if they hear it up there. And while you're doing all that, I'll
just drop on one knee here, and cover the crack in the wall. Suppose one
of the lot should try and come out while we were off our guard. I'll
make him surrender quicker than he can say 'Jack Robinson'!"

Presently there sounded upon the morning air the clear "cooee" of the
range, particularly well known to every cowboy who had worked at Circle
Ranch. Frank and Bob listened eagerly to learn whether there would come
any response. If not, then they must take up the task of climbing that
singular crevice by themselves; and finding out how affairs stood above.

Their suspense was short-lived, for quickly there floated to their
waiting ears a responsive call. Turning toward the quarter from whence
it seemed to come they saw a hat waving.

"It's Old Hank, sure it is!" exclaimed Bob, with a thrill of delight;
for the burden of going up against three desperate characters was more
than boy nature could stand without more or less uneasiness.

"That's Chesty with him," announced Frank, as two figures were
discovered coming toward them. "Why, if we'd made all the arrangements
ourselves we couldn't have done better, Bob. Here comes our
reinforcements just in the nick of time. And if Eugene and his backers
are still up yonder in the cliff dwellers' homes, they have stayed a
little while too long, that's all."

In another three minutes the boys were shaking hands with Old Hank and
Chesty; the latter with a cheerful grin on his face, as though he
considered it quite a joke to break in on Frank's game at the finishing
point.

Of course they were ignorant as to how matters stood. And Frank took
upon himself the task of explaining all that had happened.

"Ther up yonder yet, then," announced Hank, after he had carefully
inspected the footprints, and noted that they all pointed one way; "that
is to say, if they ain't got an airyplane along as would allow of them
flying off. An' Frank, when ye sez the word we'uns are goin' t' walk up
this rock ladder t' see what sorter place the ole perfessor keeps."

"Then I say it now," declared Frank, anxious to have the thing settled
one way or the other without further delay.

"Foller arter me, all of ye!" called the old plainsman, as he plunged
into the gap.




CHAPTER XX

ANOTHER SURPRISE


"One thing, we won't need torches this time, Hank!" remarked Bob as he
prepared to follow after the leader.

"I reckons not, Bobby," chuckled the veteran cowman, who knew that
something about the situation must have recalled their entering that
cave that day where sly old Sallie and her half-grown whelps awaited
their coming with bared teeth.

Just back of Hank came Chesty, who was a very ambitious young fellow,
and always to be counted on with regard to obtaining his proper share in
every little excitement that happened. Then Frank filed along; and at
his heels Bob climbed; while Charley Moi brought up the rear, bent on
seeing all that might come to pass.

The crevice immediately began to mount upward, just as Frank had
anticipated it would. There were times when the climbing was pretty
steep, and Frank began to wonder what sort of agile man this old and
stubborn Professor Oswald could be, to overcome such difficulties so
often, while in the pursuit of his hobby.

Bob was soon panting, but no less bent on "keeping up with the
procession," as he himself put it. They had been going back from the
face of the cliff pretty much all the time, so that there was really no
chance to take an observation, in order to tell just how far up they had
come.

Frank felt sure, however, after this labor had kept up for quite a long
time, that they must now be getting near the top of the break, or where
the crooked crack in the face of the rock ended.

He tried to picture what they would find. If Eugene and his reckless
backers had been in possession of the place for some hours now, they
must have tried all sorts of expedients in order to compel the professor
to reveal the secret hiding place of the valuable document, and make it
over to them. Nor would such heartless men hesitate long about adopting
torture in order to force a confession from the unwilling victim.

Then Frank wondered if the three rascals would attempt any tactics
looking to holding the attacking force at bay. They were well armed, no
doubt, and having such a rich treasure hanging in the scales, it might
be expected that they would hate to let it slip from their covetous
grasp without putting up some sort of fight.

But all that could be left to Old Hank. For many years he had been the
leading figure in all the affairs that centered around Circle Ranch. Did
the rustlers run off part of the herd, the veteran was put in charge of
the pursuing force. Sometimes the sly marauders got off scot free; but
more often they paid dearly for their audacity in picking out Colonel
Haywood's ranch as the scene of their foray.

Frank really had no fears as to the result, now that Hank had arrived on
the scene to direct operations. The three schemers might give them some
trouble, but they could not carry the day.

"Please let a fellow rest up a little, Hank!" came from Bob, finally.

The old cow puncher understood that the pace had been too warm for the
tenderfoot; and he considerately halted. Perhaps none of the climbers
were averse to a breathing spell before the final round. It would put
them in better condition for the wind-up, whatever that might prove to
be.

"Frank," whispered Bob, as he pulled at the trouser leg of his chum so
as to induce him to bend down closer.

"What's the row?" asked the other, in somewhat the same guarded tone, as
he managed to double over, and bring his face close to that of his
friend.

"Charley Moi has just told me something," Bob went on. "You know we
found out before now that he's got the greatest pair of ears ever for
hearing things? Well, he says there's something or some one following us
up this old crack!"

"Whew! that's nice, now. A regular procession, it seems," remarked
Frank.

"Who d'ye think it can be; and would a bear or a mountain lion pick up
our tracks this way?" continued Bob, who was trying to work his rifle
around, so as to cover the rear.

"Wait! Let's all listen, after I send the word along to Hank and
Chesty," remarked Frank.

When this had been done even the old cowman thought well enough of the
idea to wait until they could find out the nature of the sounds that had
reached the keen hearing of the wide-awake Chinaman.

It was only half light in the break of the rock, and the passage they
had been following thus far was so very crooked that no one could see
more than twenty feet down the trail.

Still every eye was fastened on that point where the advancing man or
animal would first appear. Frank, too, had his rifle bearing on the
spot; and taken as a whole the appearance of the little company,
flattened out against the break in the mighty rock wall, was rather
threatening.

All of them could catch the sounds below now. Whoever came up the rock
ladder must be unused to negotiating such a stairway, for they rattled
small bits of loose shale down at times; and Frank felt sure he could
hear a panting sound, very much like that which tired Bob had been
making a minute ago.

And, as he listened, Frank made a discovery that caused him to tighten
his grip on that reliable repeating rifle. There were two of the
pursuers! And he anticipated that the leader must come in sight ere
another dozen seconds passed!

There was some sort of movement now, down in the region of the little
twist where the steep stairway of the old cliff dwellers made a turn.
Then a head and shoulders came into view.

Frank chuckled aloud. Just in almost that last second of time he had
suddenly guessed the truth, when, in this clinging figure that was
staring upward, as though filled with genuine surprise, he recognized an
old friend.

It was Mr. Stanwix, the sheriff of the county!

He and his mate from the adjoining division of Coconino must have just
had a glimpse of Charley Moi disappearing in the dark hole at the base
of the cliff; and, being in pursuit of two shrewd law breakers, who had
been known to appear in other dress than that of cowmen, perhaps the
officers had concluded that here was something that ought to be
investigated.

Frank immediately made a friendly gesture with one hand. He did not want
to risk the chances of being fired upon by the officers of the law, who
might take the little party for bad men. Then he beckoned in a fashion
that the sheriff must readily understand to mean caution, and silence.

They saw Mr. Stanwix bend down as though he might be explaining to his
fellow officer what an astonishing thing had happened. After that he
came on, climbing the steep rock ladder as an exhausted person might.
Yet his nature was like that of the bulldog; and once he had started to
do a thing, nothing could make him stop.

When he arrived at a point where he could make his way alongside Frank,
squeezing past Charley Moi and Bob, the sheriff of Yavapai County turned
an inquiring look upon his young friend.

Whereupon Frank started in to tell him just who the other three in the
party happened to be; and that they were bent upon foiling the lawless
game of three rascals plotting for a big stake.

In return Mr. Stanwix intimated that they had suspected something wrong
when they saw from a little distance two persons, and one of them a
Chinaman, disappearing in a cleft of the rocks. Further explanations
must await a better opportunity, however. They were now too near the
series of chambers connecting with one another to hesitate longer.

Besides, who could say what might not be going on up there a little
further, in those holes in the wall where, ages ago, the singular people
whom Professor Oswald loved to study about, had their homes, and lived
on from year to year?

Old Hank, when he once more started upward, seemed to have become much
more cautious. Frank could easily guess the reason. There was a strong
possibility that the three schemers might have learned of their presence
in the vicinity ere now. And of course Eugene knew full well why Frank
and Bob had come to the Grand Canyon from their ranch home.

Suspecting that sooner or later the two boys might discover the way up
to the cliff house, they would be apt to lay a trap of some sort,
thinking to catch them napping when they ascended.

Old Hank could not be taken unawares any easier than might the wary
weasel that has never been seen asleep by mortal eyes.

Frank, keeping well up by the heels of the little cowboy's boots, was
ready to draw himself upward at the first sign of trouble. He knew when
Hank had reached the top of the singular stairway fashioned by Nature
for the benefit of those who built their habitations near the top of
the cliff, far beyond the reach of enemies in the valley below.

A few seconds of suspense followed, while Chesty was following the
veteran into the first hollowed-out apartment. Nothing followed where
Frank had been expecting all manner of evil things.

"Perhaps they're asleep," was the new thought that flashed through his
brain. He did not know what manner of man Uncle Felix was.

Now they were all gathered there in that outer chamber that might be
called an ante-room of the various apartments running along the face of
the cliff for some distance.

Even Charley Moi was there, full of curiosity, and willing to lend a
hand after a fashion. Bob looked around; just as his chum had done as
soon as he entered. He saw that some one had certainly been there
recently. There were plenty of evidences to that effect.

Old Hank raised his hand with the forefinger elevated. It was recognized
as a signal for absolute silence by all the others. Even Bob restrained
his desire to ask questions; and every one listened, as if expecting to
catch sounds.

Was that a human voice?

Frank started a trifle as the idea came to him. Still, it might only
have been an additionally strong movement of the breeze; turning some
angle that caused it to give forth a sound.

He turned to see if any of the others had heard, and judged from the way
old Hank had his head raised that he, too, had caught the sound; also
that it appealed to him as full of significance.

Again the veteran waved his hand. This time it meant not only caution,
but an invitation to advance. Hank was about to pass into the next
apartment, and wished the others to keep close at his heels.

Bob was quivering all over with the fever of suspense, as well as
pent-up eagerness. He did not know just how much longer he could hold
in; for he wanted to yell. Still, he did not do it. Since coming to this
wonderland country of the Southwest he had learned many lessons in the
way of self control; and every day he was gaining more and more of a
mastery over himself.

Now Hank was in the second room, and still heading onward toward another
hole in the wall, evidently the only means of communication between the
various houses forming the little community.

When he reached this, voices were plainly heard beyond. Hank kept right
on, heading for yet a third doorway; and whoever was doing the talking,
he or they must be in that further apartment; so that in another minute
Frank expected to have his curiosity fully satisfied.




CHAPTER XXI

THE LITTLE OLD MAN OF ECHO CAVE


"You admit you have carried the document with you, and that it's only a
question of refusing to produce it, Professor?"

Frank recognized that drawling voice. He had heard his father's cousin,
Eugene Warringford, speak many times, and generally in this slow way.
But Frank also knew that back of his apparently careless manner there
was more or less venom. Eugene could hate, and hide his feelings in a
masterly manner. He could smile, and then strike behind the back of the
one with whom he was dealing. And somehow his very drawling voice always
made Frank quiver with instinctive dislike.

"I admit nothing, sir," came another voice, quick and nervous, yet with
a firmness that told of considerable spirit. "You come upon me in my
retreat without an invitation, and at first claim to be a warm admirer
of my work, which you seem to have studied fairly well. But now you are
taking the mask off, sir; and I can recognize the wolf under the sheep's
clothing."

Frank had heard that the old scientist, though a small man, was full of
grit; and he could well believe it after hearing him speak.

And Bob, who crouched close at the side of his chum, gave Frank a nudge
as if to say: "What do you think of that for nerve; isn't he the limit,
though?"

Eugene laughed in his lazy way at being accused of evil intentions.
Apparently he had about made up his mind that there was no use in longer
beating about the bush. He had the old gentleman cooped up in this
isolated place, where no assistance could possibly reach him. And backed
up himself by a couple of reckless rascals, no doubt Eugene considered
himself in a position to demand obedience.

"Well, my dear old gentleman," he remarked, and by the sound Frank
imagined the fellow must be lighting a fresh cigarette, for he seemed to
puff between the words; "just as you say, what's the use of carrying the
joke on any longer. Let's be brutally frank with each other from now
on."

"Very well," replied the other, quickly. "Here's the situation then, in
a nutshell. You suddenly appear before me, with a couple of men you
claim are guides, but whom I have every reason to believe are low
minions who are simply in your pay."

"Careful, Professor," Eugene broke in. "I'd advise you to go a bit
slow. These men talk English, if they do look like Mexicans; and they
may resent being called rascals."

"Let that pass," continued the hermit of Echo Cave, as though waving the
matter aside contemptuously. "At any rate, you come suddenly into my
habitation here, where I have spent many happy months in solitude,
wrapped up in my studies of the people of the cliffs, who spent their
lives in this very place, and who have left many traces of their customs
behind. My work is almost finished, and in another week I expected
leaving here for civilization, with a masterly book on the subject that
has mystified the world for a century."

"Come to the point, Professor," broke in the man with the drawl; "and
keep all this about your studies for those of your kind, who may
appreciate them. We are concerned only about one thing; and that is a
certain paper which you will presently take from its hiding-place, sign
over to me, and then finish your labors here in peace. Understand that?"

"By good luck I was forewarned," the sharp voice went on; "and hence I
made sure not to carry that document on my person. You have taken the
liberty of searching every inch of these cliff houses since you arrived
here, but without success. And allow me to inform you, sir, that you
might hunt until the day of doom without the slightest chance of finding
that paper. It will never be yours!"

"Oh! I am not worrying in the least, Professor," Eugene remarked,
coolly. "You will see a great light presently, I imagine."

"I have already done so, sir," came the snappy reply. "I am awakening to
the fact that too long have I been neglecting my daughter; and that
since this investment of mine has turned out so happily, it must become
her property."

"Very nice and thoughtful of you, Professor," sneered Eugene; "and while
I dislike to spoil such delightful plans, I fear I must do so. It is my
nature to persist in anything I undertake. And I have made up my mind to
possess that document; or make you pay dearly for my disappointment."

"Now you begin to descend to low threats, sir," cried the scientist, who
did not seem to be a particle afraid; which proved the truth of the old
saying that courage does not necessarily need a big tenement.

"We have hunted high and low through this series of ratholes, and
without any success," observed Eugene, beginning to bite off his words,
as though unable to much longer keep up the pretense of being calm.
"What have you done with that old Moqui who came up here ahead of us?"

"Ah! you saw him enter the hidden stairway, then, and that was how you
learned the way to reach these cliff dwellings?" exclaimed the other, as
though one thing that had bothered him was now explained.

"Yes, that was how it came about," answered Eugene. "We have followed
him like his own shadow for days, and yet he knew it not. Age must have
dimmed the sight and hearing of the warrior. After we saw him pass
upward, on investigating, we found the stone ladder in the crevice, and
we waited several hours for him to come down, for we wanted to make sure
of him first. As he did not appear, we finally could stand it no longer,
and began to creep up here, inches at a time. Then we surprised you, and
announced our intention of stopping with you."

"Yes," declared the scientist, bitterly. "First you pretended that you
were sent out by a magazine to search for me, and get some points as to
my great work here among the Zunis, the Hopis and the Moquis. But I soon
discovered that you had another motive in trying to find Professor
Oswald. You began to hint about your desire to possess stock in certain
mines, and especially in one, the ownership of which I had carried in my
hand for some years. Besides, I had been warned of your real intentions,
and was on my guard."

"What became of that old Moqui Indian?" went on Eugene. "He climbed up,
but he did not come down. We guarded that stairway closely every minute
of the time. We have searched every room in this rabbit burrow that we
could discover; but still he does not show up. Have you put him away in
some place, the entrance to which is hidden from our eyes?"

The only reply to this question was a scornful laugh. As Bob would say,
it was as if the defiant little professor had flashed out.

"Don't you wish you knew?"

"Well, as the document and the Moqui have both vanished mysteriously,
there's only one thing I can conclude," went on Eugene, between his
teeth; "and that is they must be together at this very moment. Produce
the one, and the other will be found not far away."

"What a wise man you are, sir!" remarked the little scientist, with a
sneer.

"Perhaps I may prove a more successful one than you imagine," returned
Eugene, between furious puffs. "Now, all the time I have been turning
this old lot of rabbit burrows upside down I've been thinking a whole
lot, Professor."

"Bravo!" exclaimed the other clapping his hands vigorously; "it will
certainly do you a great amount of good, sir, for I imagine you seldom
treat yourself to such a luxury as a good hard think. And may I inquire
concerning the result of your labors in that line?"

"First of all, I sized you up as a mighty stubborn little bit of
humanity."

"Oh! thank you, sir. Really, I am disposed to accept that as a
compliment; for you see, a man of my profession could never succeed
unless he had mastered his inclination for an easy life, and had become
a stoic. And what else did you happen to decide after this wonderful fit
of thinking, may I ask, sir?"

"This: I made up my mind that once you declined to produce that
document, to secure which I have come a great distance, and undergone
considerable fatigue, that no threat of bodily harm would induce you to
alter your decision!"

"It is really very interesting to hear you say this, sir," remarked the
one who had lived in that lofty cave for many months, poring over the
queer things that he unearthed from time to time in the ruins of the
cliff dwellers' homes. "And after reaching such a conclusion as that,
how comes it you persisted in trying to carry out your original
intention?"

"Because I had another arrow in my quiver, Professor!" remarked Eugene,
in a penetrating voice, that had a ring of anticipated triumph in it.

"H'm! torture, perhaps?" suggested the other; "but my dear sir, nothing
of that nature could make me open my lips. I would die rather than
submit to your proposals."

"But wait a bit, my old friend," chuckled Eugene; "there are two kinds
of torture, that of the body, and of the mind!"

"I suppose you are right, sir," the little scientist remarked; "but
honestly, now, I fail to understand the drift of your remarks."

"Then it shall be my pleasure to enlighten you, Professor," Eugene
continued. "Pay attention to me now, and you will quickly have the
cataract removed from your eyes. Is there anything in the world that you
value above that document which you know by this time has suddenly
increased in value many times over?"

"I can think of but one thing--my daughter Janice!" replied the other,
quickly. "And she is far beyond your reach in the East."

"Ah yes, quite true, Professor," the schemer went on; "more's the pity.
But I think you make a mistake when you say that your daughter is the
only thing on earth you value above the million that has suddenly
dropped at your feet. How about this, Professor?"

He evidently held something up, for the other immediately uttered a
startled cry.

"The manuscript of my forthcoming book on the mysteries of the cliff
dwellers of the Grand Canyon! The hard work of three long years of
exile! A labor of love that I expected will place my name among the
front ranks of scientists!"

"Exactly!" sneered Eugene. "Just keep back, Professor, please. My men
are not in any too pleasant a mood, and I would not answer for what they
might do to you if you made the first effort to snatch this thing from
my hands. Sit down again, and let us reason together."

"You wretch! Now I begin to see your game. You would threaten to destroy
all my precious work of years, in order to obtain a miserable paper."

At that Eugene laughed loudly.

"It may be all you say, Professor," he remarked; "but it represents a
snug little fortune that I'd like to possess. The future would be mighty
pleasant, once I made that fine hit. And if it appears like so much
trash in your eyes, my dear man, there should no longer be any
hesitation about giving it up to me. Think of the work you have done. It
couldn't be replaced, Professor, I imagine? If now I should deliberately
take a match out of my pocket like this, strike the same, and apply the
busy little flame to these papers, the history of the Zunis, the Hopis,
the Moquis, and their ancestors the cliff dwellers, would be forever
lost to the world, wouldn't it?"

"Stop, you wretch!" cried the excited hermit, who was apparently
greatly alarmed at seeing his precious manuscript in peril.

"Ah! do you then consent to open your mouth, and tell what I want to
know?" demanded his tormentor.

"Is there no other way out?" asked the prisoner of the cave, hopelessly.

"None," replied Eugene, harshly. "My men are watching for the Moqui to
show up every second, and with orders to shoot him on sight. So don't
indulge in any hope that he can save you. There, the match has burned
itself out; but remember, Professor, there are others, plenty of them,
where that came from. I will give you one minute to produce that paper."

The scientist uttered a sigh that was plainly heard.

"I suppose I must yield to fate then," he said, dismally. "But you
promise to return my papers to me after I have complied with your
outrageous demands?"

"To be sure I will, and only too gladly," replied the other, eagerly. "I
don't want to make the terms too hard on you, old man. Only you must
choose now between losing either the fortune, or your work of years. And
perhaps we'd find the document after all, too. Speak up; where is it?"

"Examine that rock stool on which you are seated, and you will find
that it can be moved," the voice of the hermit went on, steadily.
"There, now that you have over-turned the seat, you discover something
in the cavity. Keep your word, and place in my hands my precious packet
of manuscript. Threats of taking my life might not move me; but when you
place in peril that on which my reputation as a scientist must be based,
it is too much. Thank you, sir; I see you are a man of your word. And I
will sign the papers just as you may wish to have done."




CHAPTER XXII

TURNING THE TABLES--CONCLUSION


"Come on in, boys!"

Old Hank Coombs had stood all the while this intensely interesting
dialogue was going on, as though glued to the spot. Indeed, not one of
the party in the adjoining apartment of the cliff dwellers' cave but who
had kept drinking in the conversation as though it fairly fascinated
them.

But when the old cow puncher realized that to all appearances the
outrageous scheme of Eugene had worked only too well, and that the
precious document was even then in the hands of the smooth-tongued
plotter, he suddenly awoke to the fact that perhaps they had waited a
little too long.

Through the opening that served as a doorway between the apartments he
jumped, followed immediately by Chesty, the two sheriffs, and finally
the saddle boys, with Charley Moi bringing up the rear.

Of course their unexpected coming created quite a breeze among those
whom they thus surprised. The little man who wore the goggles seemed
delighted, and immediately started to place himself, and his precious
manuscript, in a position where he might be covered by these welcome
allies.

Spanish Joe and Abajo had started to draw their weapons; but when they
discovered that they had already been covered, and recognized several
among the newcomers as old companions on Circle Ranch, they promptly
elevated their hands.

Eugene looked just as ugly as he felt. The prize had apparently been
about to fall into his hands, like a ripe apple, when this change of
front had to occur.

He kept his wits about him, however, and like the shrewd fox that he
was, played the game to the limit for his own safety.

"Keep your friends back, Professor Oswald!" he shouted, as he managed to
interpose what looked like a stone table between himself and the two
sheriffs, who had their hungry eyes on him. "See here, unless you
promise on your word of honor not to proceed against me for this little
game that didn't work, I'll tear this paper that's worth a million into
little bits, no matter what happens to me afterwards! Do you hear,
Professor?"

Frank caught his breath. After all the hard work which he and Bob had
put in to save that precious document for Janice, was it to be lost?

He wanted to fly at the man, and snatch it from his hands; but did not
dare; for only too well did he know that at the first hostile move
Eugene would proceed to put his threat into execution.

To his intense surprise the little man with the big glasses seemed to be
shaking as with a convulsion of laughter. It did not seem as though he
worried about the fate of the document Eugene held so rigidly, while
awaiting an answer to his demand.

"Do just as you please about that, my friend," chuckled the scientist.
"If it would afford you any enjoyment to destroy the paper you are
holding, I wouldn't cheat you out of it for the world."

"But--" stammered the defeated plotter, "it would render void all your
right to taking possession of the San Bernardino mine, if this document
were destroyed!"

"Oh! dear no, not at all," exclaimed the other, cheerily. "The fact is,
that paper is even now on the way to the nearest post office, addressed
to my friend and relative, Colonel Haywood, and is to go by registered
mail."

"That Moqui Indian--" gasped Eugene, falling back helplessly.

"Exactly, he carries the packet, with orders to let nothing divert him
from his one purpose," observed the scientist; while Bob nudged his
chum in the side, unable to restrain his delight over the wonderful
outcome of the knotty problem.

"How did he get out of here?" asked Eugene. "We watched the stone
stairway every minute of the time, and he didn't go down that way."

"Oh! well, in my prowling around here, month after month," explained the
hermit, "I managed to find a way the old cliff dwellers had for reaching
the summit of the rocks, in case of necessity. The Moqui possessed the
nerve required to crawl along the face of the cliff on a narrow ledge,
and make the exit. He is miles away by now, and my daughter's
inheritance is safe!"

"But--this paper here," asked Eugene, faintly; yet with curiosity
governing his actions; "it seems to be a legal document, transferring a
majority of the shares of the San Bernardino mine over to you if the
further conditions are fulfilled within a certain time?"

"To be sure," laughed the other, "that was the first copy, you might
say. There was some little defect about it, which we discovered after it
was signed; so a second copy was made. If you had examined that one
closer you would have found that the stamp necessary to make it legal
was lacking. Somehow I happened to keep both copies, never dreaming how
valuable this bogus one might prove."

Eugene threw the paper angrily to the floor.

"I'm done!" he cried, shaking his head. "Come on, Mr. Stanwix, if you
are after me, and put the irons on; though I don't think you've got any
show of convicting me of any unlawful game. I claim to have come here to
interview this famous old gentleman about the wonderful discoveries he
has made connected with these people of the cliffs. I expected to make a
big sum in selling the article to a magazine. Perhaps you might give me
more or less trouble if you cared; but then it's another thing to show
proof. And the professor wouldn't like to stay out here long months,
waiting for the case to come on."

"That's where you're right, my tall friend," chirped the little
scientist; "and as my work is almost finished I do not mean to let
anything detain me from getting my book in the hands of the printers."

"Hear that, Mr. Stanwix; he says we're going to get off easy, and you
might as well wish us good day right now?" exclaimed Eugene, nodding to
the Yavapai sheriff, whom he appeared to know.

"Well, there's no hurry," remarked that official, pleasantly. "On the
whole, my opinion is that it would be good policy to keep you locked up
until we know that the document has reached the hands of the one to whom
it was sent, and who is, I believe, the father of our friend, Frank,
here."

"I agree with you, Mr. Sheriff!" declared the old hermit of the cave.
"Because if he were set free I fear he would chase after the United
States mail, if a single hope remained of stealing my property. Yes,
kindly keep him by you until I come around with news."

Then he turned to the two cow punchers, who had stood moodily by,
listening to all that was being said.

"I have no use for either of you men," he remarked, shaking a finger at
them; "so the sooner you get down out of this place, the better. And
while I continue to remain here a few days, I'm going to ask these brave
lads to keep me company as a guard of honor. I've many things to show
that may interest them. And I want to accompany Frank to his home a
little later, if possible."

And so it was arranged. Old Hank and Chesty declared that their orders
had been to stay as long as Frank and Bob did; so they also took up
their quarters in the apartments that went to make up what the little
old gentleman had called Echo Cave.

The two sheriffs took their prisoner away, to place him in some secure
nook while they continued their search for the pair of scoundrels whom
they had hunted so long, and were determined to get this time.

As they will not be seen again in this story it may only be right to say
that Frank afterwards read an account in a paper of how the sheriffs
finally rounded up the Arizona Kid and Big Bill Guffey, arresting them
after a warm resistance in which all of the participants were wounded.
And in due time doubtless the bad men who had so long defied the law,
paid the penalty for their various crimes.

The saddle boys certainly did enjoy the few days they spent with the
queer little hermit, while he completed his odd business in the rock
dwellings of the ancient cliff men.

They found the echo which had caused him to give the place its name, and
spent many an hour amusing themselves with its astonishing power to send
back sounds.

Finally Havasupai made his appearance, bearing with him a receipt, which
proved that the precious packet had been sent by registered mail to
Circle Ranch.

And then the professor announced himself as ready to take his departure
from the scene of his two years' labors as a hermit, working in the
interests of science.

"It's a wonderful old place," Bob declared as they took their last look
at the Grand Canyon from the bluff in front of the hotel, ere mounting
their horses and starting back home across the many miles that lay to
the south and east before Circle Ranch might be reached.

"Yes, and we'll never forget what we've seen here," added Frank.

"Not to speak of the adventures that have come our way," remarked Bob.
"Tell you the truth, Frank, I'll be mighty sorry when our trip is over,
because I reckon it'll be a long time before we have another chance for
such a great gallop."

But although of course he did not know it just then, Bob was very much
mistaken when he made this prophecy. It happened that events were
shaping themselves at that very hour in a way calculated to call upon
the saddle boys to make another venture into the realms of chance, and
mounted upon their prized horses too. What these events were, and how
well Frank and Bob acquitted themselves when brought face to face with
new adventures, will be found set forth in the next volume of this
series, under the title of, "The Saddle Boys on the Plains; Or, After a
Treasure of Gold."

Old Hank and Chesty accompanied Professor Oswald by way of the railroad
to a point nearest the ranch, where a vehicle would be awaiting them. He
had been greatly interested in hearing how one of the bottles that he
had thrown into the swift current of the Colorado had been eventually
picked up in far distant Mohave City; and thus his note came into the
hands of his relatives.

Of course Frank and his chum enjoyed the return gallop even more than
when on the way to the Grand Canyon. They no longer had anything
weighing on their minds, since the plans of Eugene Warringford had been
broken up. And besides, the recollection of the astounding wonders they
had gazed upon in that great canyon were bound to haunt them forever.

The little professor was waiting to see them at the ranch, before
starting East to join his daughter, and get his wonderful book under
way.

"I owe you boys more than I can tell," he declared, when he was saying
good-bye; "and you needn't be at all surprised if a nice little bunch of
gold mine stock comes this way for each of you, just as soon as my deal
goes through, which will be in one more week."

He was as good as his word, and when the mine came under his authority
he did send both Frank and Bob some stock, on which they could collect
dividends four times a year.

Frank looked in vain for the coming of the old Moqui. Charley Moi did
indeed turn up a little later, anxious to again meet the boys whom he
had served in the Grand Canyon. But Havasupai came not to Circle Ranch;
and remembering how he had apparently been fleeing from the wrath of his
people at the time they first met him, Frank and Bob could not but
wonder whether the old warrior had gone back to his native village only
to meet his fate at the hands of his people, according to Moqui law.

Here we may leave our two young friends, the saddle boys, for a short
time, enjoying a well earned rest. But the lure of the great outdoors
was so strongly rooted in their natures that it may be readily
understood they could not remain inactive long; but would soon be
galloping over the wide reaches, following the cowboys as they rounded
up the herds, branded mavericks and young cattle, and picked out those
intended for shipment to the great marts at Kansas City.

But while new scenes would likely interest Frank and Bob from time to
time, they could never forget the magnificent views that had been
stamped upon their memories forever while in the Grand Canyon of the
mighty Colorado.


THE END


     *     *     *     *     *     *


THE BOYS' OUTING LIBRARY

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full color. Price, per volume, 65
cents, postpaid._

[Illustration]

THE SADDLE BOYS SERIES

BY CAPT. JAMES CARSON

  The Saddle Boys of the Rockies
  The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon
  The Saddle Boys on the Plains
  The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch
  The Saddle Boys on Mexican Trails


THE DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES

BY ROY ROCKWOOD

  Dave Dashaway the Young Aviator
  Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane
  Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship
  Dave Dashaway Around the World
  Dave Dashaway: Air Champion


THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES

BY ROY ROCKWOOD

  The Speedwell Boys on Motorcycles
  The Speedwell Boys and Their Racing Auto
  The Speedwell Boys and Their Power Launch
  The Speedwell Boys in a Submarine
  The Speedwell Boys and Their Ice Racer


THE TOM FAIRFIELD SERIES

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

  Tom Fairfield's School Days
  Tom Fairfield at Sea
  Tom Fairfield in Camp
  Tom Fairfield's Pluck and Luck
  Tom Fairfield's Hunting Trip


THE FRED FENTON ATHLETIC SERIES

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

  Fred Fenton the Pitcher
  Fred Fenton in the Line
  Fred Fenton on the Crew
  Fred Fenton on the Track
  Fred Fenton: Marathon Runner

_Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York




THE JEWEL SERIES

BY AMES THOMPSON

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in colors_

Price per volume, 65 cents

[Illustration]

_A series of stories brimming with hardy adventure, vivid and accurate
in detail, and with a good foundation of probability. They take the
reader realistically to the scene of action. Besides being lively and
full of real situations, they are written in a straightforward way very
attractive to boy readers._

1. THE ADVENTURE BOYS AND THE VALLEY OF DIAMONDS

Malcolm Edwards and his son Ralph are adventurers with ample means for
following up their interest in jewel clues. In this book they form a
party of five, including Jimmy Stone and Bret Hartson, boys of Ralph's
age, and a shrewd level-headed sailor named Stanley Greene. They find a
valley of diamonds in the heart of Africa.

2. THE ADVENTURE BOYS AND THE RIVER OF EMERALDS

The five adventurers, staying at a hotel in San Francisco, find that
Pedro the elevator man has an interesting story of a hidden "river of
emeralds" in Peru, to tell. With him as guide, they set out to find it,
escape various traps set for them by jealous Peruvians, and are much
amused by Pedro all through the experience.

3. THE ADVENTURE BOYS AND THE LAGOON OF PEARLS

This time the group starts out on a cruise simply for pleasure, but
their adventuresome spirits lead them into the thick of things on a
South Sea cannibal island.

_Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, PUBLISHERS New York




THE BOMBA BOOKS

BY ROY ROCKWOOD

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored jacket_

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid

[Illustration]

_Bomba lived far back in the jungles of the Amazon with a half-demented
naturalist who told the lad nothing of his past. The jungle boy was a
lover of birds, and hunted animals with a bow and arrow and his trusty
machete. He had a primitive education in some things, and his daring
adventures will be followed with breathless interest by thousands._

1. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY _or The Old Naturalist's Secret_

In the depth of the jungle Bomba lives a life replete with thrilling
situations. Once he saves the lives of two American rubber hunters who
ask him who he is, and how he had come into the jungle. He sets off to
solve the mystery of his identity.

2. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE MOVING MOUNTAIN _or The Mystery of the
Caves of Fire_

Bomba travels through the jungle, encountering wild beasts and hostile
natives. At last he trails the old man of the burning mountain to his
cave and learns more concerning himself.

3. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE GIANT CATARACT _or Chief Nascanora and
His Captives_

From the Moving Mountain Bomba travels to the Giant Cataract, still
searching out his parentage. Among the Pilati Indians he finds some
white captives, and an aged opera singer who is the first to give Bomba
real news of his forebears.

4. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON JAGUAR ISLAND _or Adrift on the River of
Mystery_

Jaguar Island was a spot as dangerous as it was mysterious and Bomba was
warned to keep away. But the plucky boy sallied forth and met adventures
galore.

5. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE ABANDONED CITY _or A Treasure Ten
Thousand Years Old_

Years ago this great city had sunk out of sight beneath the trees of the
jungle. A wily half-breed and his tribe thought to carry away its
treasure of gold and precious stones. Bomba follows.

_Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York




SEA STORIES FOR BOYS

BY JOHN GABRIEL ROWE

_Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Colored jacket_

Price per volume, $1.00 Net

[Illustration]

_Every boy who knows the lure of exploring, and who loves to rig up huts
and caves and tree-houses to fortify himself against imaginary enemies
will enjoy these books, for they give a vivid chronicle of the doings
and inventions of a group of boys who are shipwrecked, and have to make
themselves snug and safe in tropical islands where the dangers are too
real for play._

1. CRUSOE ISLAND

Dick, Alf and Fred find themselves stranded on an unknown island with
the old seaman Josh. Their ship destroyed by fire, their friends lost,
they have to make shift for themselves for a whole exciting year before
being rescued.

2. THE ISLAND TREASURE

With much ingenuity these boys fit themselves into the wild life of the
island they are cast upon in storm. They build various kinds of
strongholds and spend most of their time outwitting their enemies.

3. THE MYSTERY OF THE DERELICT

Their ship and companions perished in tempest at sea, the boys are
adrift in a small open boat when they spy a ship. Such a strange
vessel!--no hand guiding it, no soul on board,--a derelict. It carries a
gruesome mystery, as the boys soon discover, and it leads them into a
series of strange experiences.

_Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, PUBLISHERS New York




THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES

BY WILLARD F. BAKER

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors_

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid

[Illustration]

_Stories of the great west, with cattle ranches as a setting, related in
such a style as to captivate the hearts of all boys._

1. THE BOY RANCHERS _or Solving the Mystery at Diamond X_

Two eastern boys visit their cousin. They become involved in an exciting
mystery.

2. THE BOY RANCHERS IN CAMP _or The Water Fight at Diamond X_

Returning for a visit, the two eastern lads learn, with delight, that
they are to become boy ranchers.

3. THE BOY RANCHERS ON THE TRAIL _or The Diamond X After Cattle
Rustlers_

Our boy heroes take the trail after Del Pinzo and his outlaws.

4. THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS _or Trailing the Yaquis_

Rosemary and Floyd are captured by the Yaqui Indians but the boy
ranchers trailed them into the mountains and effected the rescue.

5. THE BOY RANCHERS AT SPUR CREEK _or Fighting the Sheep Herders_

Dangerous struggle against desperadoes for land rights brings out heroic
adventures.

6. THE BOY RANCHERS IN THE DESERT _or Diamond X and the Lost Mine_

One night a strange old miner almost dead from hunger and hardship
arrived at the bunk house. The boys cared for him and he told them of
the lost desert mine.

7. THE BOY RANCHERS ON ROARING RIVER _or Diamond X and the Chinese
Smugglers_

The boy ranchers help capture Delton's gang who were engaged in
smuggling Chinese across the border.

_Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York




THE WEBSTER SERIES

By FRANK V. WEBSTER

[Illustration]

Mr. WEBSTER'S style is very much like that of the boys' favorite author,
the late lamented Horatio Alger, Jr., but his tales are thoroughly
up-to-date.

Cloth. 12mo. Over 200 pages each. Illustrated. Stamped in various
colors.

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid.

  Only A Farm Boy _or Dan Hardy's Rise in Life_
  The Boy From The Ranch _or Roy Bradner's City Experiences_
  The Young Treasure Hunter _or Fred Stanley's Trip to Alaska_
  The Boy Pilot of the Lakes _or Nat Morton's Perils_
  Tom The Telephone Boy _or The Mystery of a Message_
  Bob The Castaway _or The Wreck of the Eagle_
  The Newsboy Partners _or Who Was Dick Box_?
  Two Boy Gold Miners _or Lost in the Mountains_
  The Young Firemen of Lakeville _or Herbert Dare's Pluck_
  The Boys of Bellwood School _or Frank Jordan's Triumph_
  Jack the Runaway _or On the Road with a Circus_
  Bob Chester's Grit _or From Ranch to Riches_
  Airship Andy _or The Luck of a Brave Boy_
  High School Rivals _or Fred Markham's Struggles_
  Darry The Life Saver _or The Heroes of the Coast_
  Dick The Bank Boy _or A Missing Fortune_
  Ben Hardy's Flying Machine _or Making a Record for Himself_
  Harry Watson's High School Days _or The Rivals of Rivertown_
  Comrades of the Saddle _or The Young Rough Riders of the Plains_
  Tom Taylor at West Point _or The Old Army Officer's Secret_
  The Boy Scouts of Lennox _or Hiking Over Big Bear Mountain_
  The Boys of the Wireless _or a Stirring Rescue from the Deep_
  Cowboy Dave _or The Round-up at Rolling River_
  Jack of the Pony Express _or The Young Rider of the Mountain Trail_
  The Boys of the Battleship _or For the Honor of Uncle Sam_


CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers NEW YORK




The Boy Hunters Series

By Captain Ralph Bonehill

12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid.

[Illustration]

FOUR BOY HUNTERS _Or, The Outing of the Gun Club_

A fine, breezy story of the woods and waters, of adventures in search of
game, and of great times around the campfire, told in Captain Bonehill's
best style. In the book are given full directions for camping out.

GUNS AND SNOWSHOES _Or, The Winter Outing of the Young Hunters_

In this volume the young hunters leave home for a winter outing on the
shores of a small lake. They hunt and trap to their hearts' content, and
have adventures in plenty, all calculated to make boys "sit up and take
notice." A good healthy book; one with the odor of the pine forests and
the glare of the welcome campfire in every chapter.

YOUNG HUNTERS OF THE LAKE _Or, Out with Rod and Gun_

Another tale of woods and waters, with some strong hunting scenes and a
good deal of mystery. The three volumes make a splendid outdoor series.

OUT WITH GUN AND CAMERA _Or, The Boy Hunters in the Mountains_

Takes up the new fad of photographing wild animals as well as shooting
them. An escaped circus chimpanzee and an escaped lion add to the
interest of the narrative.


CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK




THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES

BY CLARENCE YOUNG

_12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid_

[Illustration]

  THE MOTOR BOYS _or Chums Through Thick and Thin_
  THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND _or A Long Trip for Fun and Fortune_
  THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO _or The Secret of the Buried City_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS _or The Hermit of Lost Lake_
  THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT _or The Cruise of the Dartaway_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC _or The Mystery of the Lighthouse_
  THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS _or Lost in a Floating Forest_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC _or The Young Derelict Hunters_
  THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS _or A Trip for Fame and Fortune_
  THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE ROCKIES _or A Mystery of the Air_
  THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE OCEAN _or A Marvelous Rescue in Mid-Air_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE WING _or Seeking the Airship Treasure_
  THE MOTOR BOYS AFTER A FORTUNE _or The Hut on Snake Island_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE BORDER _or Sixty Nuggets of Gold_
  THE MOTOR BOYS UNDER THE SEA _or From Airship to Submarine_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ON ROAD AND RIVER _or Racing to Save a Life_
  THE MOTOR BOYS AT BOXWOOD HALL _or Ned, Bob and Jerry as Freshmen_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ON A RANCH _or Ned, Bob and Jerry Among the Cowboys_
  THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE ARMY _or Ned, Bob and Jerry as Volunteers_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE FIRING LINE _or Ned, Bob and Jerry Fighting for
    Uncle Sam_
  THE MOTOR BOYS BOUND FOR HOME _or Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Wrecked
    Troopship_
  THE MOTOR BOYS ON THUNDER MOUNTAIN _or The Treasure Box of Blue Rock_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY. Publishers New York



***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SADDLE BOYS IN THE GRAND
CANYON***


******* This file should be named 21841.txt or 21841.zip *******


This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/8/4/21841



Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://www.gutenberg.org/license).


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director
     gbnewby@pglaf.org

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit:
http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

     http://www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.