"Say," grunted Shaw, rolling over on his back, "I'm all fried out.""You have plenty of fat left," grinned Jimmie. "How did you fellows get here?""By following the signs in the stones," Frank replied.
Then Jimmie turned to Peter, also panting from his climb.
"Where's the drum you went after," he demanded, tauntingly.
"I got lost on the way down," Peter explained. "I didn't think I'd ever see or hear a drum again. Then I came upon Frank. He was lost, too. I was on my way down to the camp, and he was on his way up to the camp, and we met half a mile to the south of the camp, both trudging along like fools."The situation was explained in a few words. Both boys had missed the trail, and had found, not the camp, but each other. They had last met in New York. Frank had not the slightest notion that Peter had left the city. It was a fortunate meeting, for the two, after greeting each other like chums, had studied the situation out much better than one could have done, with the result that, after many false trails had been followed, they had struck the one left by Jimmie.
Where are they going with Fremont?" Frank asked, in a moment.
"They seem to be going after the reward," replied Jimmie.
"He'll get all the reward that's coming to him before he gets over the river and claims the money," Frank exclaimed. "Do you think Fremont knows that you are here?"Jimmie shook his head.
"I've had to keep back," he said, "and Fremont never will look my way when I get close up to where he is.""He ought to know," the drummer said.
"I've done my best," Jimmie said, in a discouraged tone.
Frank Shaw smiled and dropped down behind a huge rock.
"Just wait a minute," he said. "Just wait until I catch me breath, and I'll put him wise to the fact that there's a Black Bear somewhere in this turned-up-on-edge country.
Watch, and see him jump."
Frank put his hand to his throat and emitted a growl which would have done credit to a genuine black bear, a bear in a museum warning the inquisitive to keep away from his cage. The threatening sound, however, seemed to come from the other side of the slope where the prisoner stood.
The Englishman drew a revolver and glanced sharply around, while the outlaws seized their guns and held them ready for action. It was clear to the boys that they had been completely deceived by the signal, and were expecting an attack from the animal at any moment.
Fremont did not seem to notice the signal, which was one the members of the Black Bear Patrol had long practiced both in the forest and in their club room, but his eyes were for an instant lifted toward the hiding place occupied by the three boys.
"He's next," whispered Fenton.
"I should say so," grunted Frank. "I guess he'd know a Black Bear signal anywhere. We didn't learn that call by any correspondence school method. It is the genuine thing. We got it by dodging the keepers and stirring up the black bears at Central Park."The outlaws were now making timid runs out toward the point from which the sound had come, and the boys thought best to drop back a short distance, still keeping Fremont in sight, however. Directly the outlaws assembled again and stood talking in the villainous lingo which they had used before. It was evident that they were not a little alarmed at the thought of a wild animal being so close to them.
"They'll think there's more than one Black Bear after them," Shaw whispered as the men turned down the eastern slope and again moved toward the desert-like plain which lay between the mountains and the river.
"There's a Wolf after them, too," grinned Jimmie. "If I had some of the Wolves I left in New York we'd eat 'em alive," he added. "I'm hungry enough to eat that big lobster at three bites."As the boy ceased speaking a pebble struck him on the top of the head, and the whine of a wolf reached his ears. There was silence for a moment, and then the sharp, vicious, canine-like snap of a wolf on scent was heard.
"I reckon all the Wolves in the world are not in New York," Shaw said.
"That was a patrol signal, Jimmie. Go out and find your chum.""It's Nestor!" almost shouted the boy, and Nestor it was, climbing laughingly toward the astonished group.
"Get down! Get down," warned Frank. "You'll give us all away."Nestor pointed to the ridge, from which the outlaws had now disappeared, and threw himself down by the side of the boys.
"Did you bring anything to eat?" demanded Frank, rubbing his stomach.
"Where are the secret service men?" asked Fenton.
"This looks like a Boy Scout convention," Jimmie put in. "Where did you come from, and why didn't the guards come with you?"In a few words Nestor explained the situation. He had left the secret service men to convey the prisoners to El Paso, and had entered alone upon a search for his friends. In a short time he had come upon signs in stones left by Shaw and Fenton, and had followed them to the place of meeting.
"What's the matter with the secret service men?" asked Shaw.
"Aw, they're jealous of Nestor!" Jimmie put in. "I reckon they wouldn't much care if Nestor had been geezled instead of Fremont.""They did all they were ordered to do," Nestor replied. "It is now up to us to release Fremont. "I'm glad he knows we are here," Nestor added, after due explanation had been made by Jimmie and Shaw. "He'll be on the lookout for us.""How are you going to get him?" asked Fenton.
"You've heard of cutting cattle out of a herd?" smiled Nestor. "Well, that is the way we are going to get Fremont. We're going to cut him out."CHAPTR XVII.
PLENTY OF BLACK BEARS.
"There's four of us now," Jimmie urged, "and we've all got guns, so we ought to go after the lobsters and get Fremont away from them.""They look like dubs," Frank put in, "and I believe they'll run when they hear us shooting. If you won't let me drum, you must let me shoot.""You got no drum!" grinned Jimmie.
"I'm afraid they would turn their guns on their prisoner if we attached them," said Nestor. "We've just got to wait until we can cut him out.""I'm hungry enough to eat 'em all alive," cried Frank.
