“What’s that?” cried Hoyt, stopping in his stride.  
“Blest if I know,” panted Bob. “But come on, we can see from the hill over there!” and with this he started off again. When they reached the place Bob had thought would be a point of vantage, the mystery was explained.
 
“Soldiers!” Bob as the outlines of the men grew clear against the star-lit sky as they topped a near-by . “!”
 
“You sure?” demanded Ted. “I wonder how in thunder they drifted into this here party. I figgered it was all ours.”
 
“I don’t know, but I am sure glad they’re here. Maybe they’ll catch those devils and then we won’t ever have any more trouble with ’em. But—listen!”
 
From a distance came the of gunshots.
 
“The Greasers making a stand, I reckon,” was Ted Hoyt’s comment. “Probably a regular battle.”
 
Bob was about to reply when an interruption stopped the words that were on the end of his tongue. A crackling noise in the bushes had been the only warning Feather-in-the-Wind had given of his approach. But his companion was what surprised Bob.
 
Jerry again! Jerry, on whom the Indian was keeping a firm grip.
 
“I catch him. Not catch any other—Mexican.” The way the Indian said the last word showed the contempt he felt for the boy who had sold out his friends.
 
“Good! We’ll keep him until Boss Whitney can attend to his case.” Bob rather expected Jerry to say something, but as there was no sound from him, he continued:
 
“I think we’d better go back to camp. The shooting over there sounds as if our part of the job is over. Think so?”
 
“Ugh!” Feather-in-the-Wind, by way of saying yes. So, still keeping his hold on Jerry, he led the way back to the Townsite. As they marched, Bob suddenly realized that after the first yell and charge from the Indians he had not heard or seen anything of them.
 
“Where are your young men?” he demanded of the Indian.
 
“I send ’em back. Watch Mexican house. Mebbeso white men need help. All can do was scare Mexican. No got guns ’nough make fight.”
 
“No need to bother about the Greasers in camp. They won’t make any trouble.” It was the first word spoken by their captive.
 
“Why?” flashed Bob, quick to take advantage of Jerry’s loosened lips.
 
“I’ll tell Mr. Whitney and no one else,” was the answer. Jerry’s first remark had evidently been surprised out of him and now he was again in control of himself.
 
No amount of urging or surprise questions sufficed to break his silence and the little party came to the lower camp before he had opened his lips.
 
The place was in great confusion. The shooting, first of the Indians and then of the soldiers, had waked up the town. The center of the activity seemed to be around the Mexican camp and when they reached the of the crowd that was jostling together in the street, they realized that the Mexicans were trapped, that if they had been unwise enough to start something they were outnumbered three to one. Here and there were Feather-in-the-Wind’s braves, ready for any emergency.
 
The bunkhouses seemed . If there were any Mexicans inside they were doing their best to play dead. The crowd seemed to think that the were the ones who had started the trouble and they were shouting, daring the Greasers to come out and start something. But there was no answer from the inside.
 
Just as the crowd was growing weary, the roar of a high powered gasoline engine drowned out the noise they were making. With the muffler cut out open and the exhaust snapping explosions like the reports of young , a car dashed down the street and stopped with a jerk. Out of it Big Boss Whitney.
 
“What’s the rumpus?” he roared. “What’s broken loose?”
 
His presence dominated the crowd and for a moment there was comparative quiet. Then[251] everybody tried to explain at the same time and only succeeded in confusing the man more. His eye, through the crowd, fell on Bob and the others. “Here, Hazard,” he called, “tell me quick what’s up!”
 
In a few words Bob the happenings of the past few hours. When he finished by saying that the cavalry had arrived on the scene and had started chasing the Mexicans, the Chief breathed a sigh of relief.
 
“It’s all right then,” he muttered and stood up to the crowd.
 
“All over, men. There’ll be no more trouble to-night. Our Mexicans are not mixed up in this yet and the soldiers have come to see that they don’t. They’ll be here any minute now!”
 
This satisfied the excited mob and gradually it thinned out as Whitney demanded more details from Bob.
 
“Did you send me that wire to get up here as quickly as I could? It caught me at Las Cruces just by chance.”
 
“No,” returned the boy. “I didn’t have time after things started to break loose.”
 
“I wonder who did then. But I want to go to the troops. Which way did they go?” But before Bob could answer, Mr. Whitney saw for the first time that Jerry was being held prisoner by the Indian.
 
“But what does this mean?” he exclaimed. “What are you holding onto King for?”
 
“He has been the go-between for the cattlemen and the Greasers,” said Bob bitterly, sick that it was his job to tell of his former chum’s treachery. “We’ve caught him, that’s all! When we’ve time I’ll tell you the whole rotten thing.”
 
“Haven’t you anything to say for yourself?” snapped the man. “Is Bob right?”
 
Jerry looked at the chief and was about to reply when a yell came to their ears.
 
“They’re coming!”
 
Before there was time to figure out who it was that was coming, the hoofbeats and jangling of accouterments the approach of the troopers. A moment later the soldiers down the street under the electric lights that had been turned on when the trouble started. In their midst were a number of looking Mexicans, evidently prisoners.
 
Mr. Whitney stepped out and halted the troop by hailing the captain, who was in the lead. Tom noticed to his surprise that at the officer’s side was Link O’Day, whom he had met as the foreman of Thaddeus Holman’s . What his appearance on the scene meant was more than the boy could imagine.
 
The officer halted his men and after a brief talk with Mr. Whitney gave some orders to his . The Chief then turned to Bob.
 
“We’re going to my to talk this out. Come along. I want Feather-in-the-Wind and Jerry too. Hoyt, find Mr. Taylor and ask him to report to me at once!”
 
Link O’Day walked with the two men in the lead and all the way to the house Bob racked his brain to find a reason for this man’s having ridden into camp with the soldiers and on top of that to be included in the conference the Chief had arranged.
 
The porch of the cottage was the spot chosen for the talk. When Taylor joined the group Mr. Whitney opened the .
 
“With your permission, Captain Wendell, I would like to get the whole sequence of events in order. You have told me that you have captured the better part of the gang of raiders, so I will ask Bob Hazard to tell me what led up to your timely . Is that all right? Hazard was in the midst of explaining the situation when you rode in, and I’d like to hear the finish of his .”
 
“Let him shoot!” was the answer.
 
“All right then, Bob,” encouraged Mr. Whitney. “Start from the beginning and tell us everything that’s happened.”
 
So many days had passed during which Bob’s one desire had been to unload his troubles on his Chief that he was not at all embarrassed when he found he had to tell his tale before so many witnesses. He started in and until he reached the episode of Miguel’s attempt to blow up the coffer dam he steadily and clearly. At this point, however, when it was necessary to tell of the part he had taken in the adventure, he began to and hesitate. Feather-in-the-Wind broke in to help him out and in his short, broken sentences pictured for the listeners the deed that had been done to save the dam.
 
When he finished a of passed around the group, and to cover his , Bob hurriedly went on to tell of Jerry’s visit and the surprise attack planned by Feather-in-the-Wind.
 
“That’s the story, Mr. Whitney,” he finished. “And as the dam is safe, everything seems to be all right only, only—” Here the boy’s voice broke—“the part about Jerry. I—I can’t understand how he could do it—how—how he could be a to the Service—”
 
“I can tell you!” the statement rang out from a corner of the porch. Bob looked around to find that it was Link O’Day who had cried out. “You can’t understand b............